


Hope You Will

by Heathlily33



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, New York City, is restaurant an AU?, work work work work work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 108,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heathlily33/pseuds/Heathlily33
Summary: The reply came easy. Finally a question she knew how to answer. “Actually, Carol is out of town. She’s back tomorrow, I think.”Therese hadn’t met Carol yet. She just knew that Carol was the Assistant General Manager as well as the Beverage Director and she had been out of town since Therese’s first day last Sunday.Dannie walked by and overheard Therese’s conversation. He chimed in, addressing both Therese and the women at her table. “Carol? No, she’s back now. She literally walked in the door like ten minutes ago.”





	1. Chapter 1

It was only her first day. Well, her first _real_ day. Therese had worked the past four nights, too, but training. She wasn’t supposed to be serving tables yet - technically another week was supposed to be spent shadowing Dannie or Gen or whoever else, and there was a beverage training she’d skipped. The restaurant was short staffed, though, so they needed Therese to start working tonight. 

Dannie had helped get her the job. The place she worked at before was fine, but this new place was a huge step up. It was a few years old and still constantly busy. It was expensive too, meaning Therese could plan to make at least two hundred dollars a night in tips, Dannie said. 

But today was only her first night working - it had gone relatively well, she thought, until now. For no reason she could think of, one of the women seated at the table asked, “can I speak to your manager?” as Therese poured water.

Therese hadn’t even had time to greet either of them. She knew her face must’ve turned ghost white, because the woman smirked, almost apologetically, and added, “oh, honey, you look terrified. I’m so sorry. It was only a joke. I just wanted to see if Carol was around.”

Relief swept over her and she tried to force herself to laugh, but she was still shaken. 

The reply came easy, though. Finally a question she knew how to answer. “Actually, Carol is out of town. She’s back tomorrow, I think.”

Therese hadn’t met Carol yet. She just knew that Carol was the Assistant General Manager _and_ the Beverage Director _and_ she had been out of town since Therese’s first day last Sunday. 

Dannie walked by and overheard Therese’s conversation. He chimed in, addressing both Therese and her table. “Carol? No, she’s back now. She literally walked in the door like ten minutes ago. Right before Harge and Jeanette left.”

Harge was the GM and Jeanette was another floor manager. Both were nice, Therese thought, but Harge took his job too seriously and everyone bitched about him behind his back. It seemed like run-of-the-mill complaints about bosses from employees, though. There was something to say about all three: Harge was too rigid, Jeanette wasn’t helpful enough, and Carol apparently thought everyone was stupid and bad at their jobs. 

Dannie continued. “You can tell when she’s the only manager here because the music changes from whatever is playing to pretty much just rap.” 

He gave a cheeky grin and the woman sitting at Therese’s table looked satisfied. “Sounds about right. Can you tell her Cynthia is here?”

Therese just nodded and walked away with Dannie. He told her that she was probably downstairs in her “office,” which was just the red wine cellar with a desk, a chair, and a laptop. Not particularly enthused to meet the last of her managers on her first day, minutes after said manager had arrived, Therese gave Dannie pouty eyes. 

He wasn’t taking it. “Just go get her. She’s fine, she’s nice. Seriously, go. I’ll watch your tables.”

She took her time going downstairs and through the basement, making her way past the pastry kitchen and the liquor cage. She hesitated briefly before knocking lightly on the closed wine-room door. 

From behind it came a drawn-out “ _yes?_ ” It didn’t sound bothered or harsh, mostly disinterested. Therese felt a little calmer and opened the door. 

It wasn’t who she had expected. Carol at least _looked_ like she would be nice. Not like the person Gen had described: _always disappointed in the staff for god-knows what reason._ Therese examined her while she had the chance, before Carol looked over from her computer. She was strikingly pretty. Hot, even. Very hot. She sat back casually in her desk chair, wearing an oversized, unzipped hoodie over a black wrap dress that stopped at her mid thigh. A black loafer dangled from the foot of her crossed leg. Finally she looked at Therese standing in the doorway. 

Her eyes went down and back up. “Who are you?”

The question was kind of funny and Therese smiled. “I’m Therese. I’m new. It’s my first day on the floor.”

There was a moment of realization and Carol said, “Yes. Right. They told me you spent the week training. Got it.” She turned back to her computer. “I remember when you interviewed two weeks ago, actually. You sat at the bar with Harge.”

She had. She didn’t remember seeing Carol, though. How had Carol remembered that? A couple seconds of silence passed and Therese remembered why she was there. _Tables upstairs. The two women. Cynthia asked for Carol_.

“There’s a woman at one of my tables who’s asking for you.” Therese spoke and watched as Carol clicked around on the program used to design the restaurant’s menus. “Her name is Cynthia? I think?”

Something about the way Carol stopped her movements and how her eyes darted back to Therese, serious now, told Therese that this wasn’t good news. 

“ _No._ What? Are you fucking with me?” Carol must’ve quickly realized that Therese couldn’t really ‘fuck with her’ seeing as they had met only twenty seconds ago, because she tried again. “You’re sure she said Cynthia?”

“Pretty sure.” 

“Asian woman? A little taller than me? Light brown eyes?” Carol asked and Therese just nodded her head yes. She fit the description. Carol’s eyes closed and her jaw set. When they opened her eyes were on the ceiling, attempting to get lost in the back of her head. “Is she with a woman that looks like me?”

This time Therese had to think. “In the sense that you’re both blonde, I guess. But she’s not nearly as attractive.” It was true and Therese was surprised she said it, but whatever. 

“Shut up.” Carol dismissed her words but Therese saw the hint of a smile on her lips. Then she was back to anger. “ _God dammit_.”

There was a pause, then a long groan, a growl of sorts, and then a whine. Then Carol removed her hoodie and draped it over the back of her chair, standing up and bending over at the waist to brush her fingers through her hair. Therese watched as she eyed some heels underneath her desk and then decided against them, muttering a _not worth it._

Therese had to know. “So…who is this person you’re so happy to see?”

It made Carol laugh, just a little, as they walked out of the room. 

“Oh, it’s just my ex and her girlfriend. You know, exactly who I wanted to see after stepping off of a plane and heading directly to work.”

_Yikes._

But Therese pictured it for a moment, Cynthia and Carol. They probably made a really good looking couple. But now they weren’t and clearly the ending hadn’t been a fantastic one, if Carol’s reaction to Cynthia’s presence was any indication. 

Carol stopped at the top of the stairs. She was reconsidering. They had a hallway to walk down and a corner to turn before being in the dining room and visible to tables. 

“Therese, don’t make me do this. Can you say I’m not here?” She was being serious, hope filled her voice.

“Dannie said you were.”

Now _there_ was the look of disappointment Genevieve had talked about. Carol said something under her breath about Dannie being in trouble, and Therese tried to steer away from the bus she’d thrown Dannie under. “I can tell her that you…died?” 

“Well, Therese, I’d prefer to _not_ make her happy. I thought that was clear.” She said it quickly and with a straight face and Therese just smiled back at her. Then, more seriously, “how do I look?”

“Honestly, you look really beautiful.”

Carol rolled her eyes again. “Oh, _Jesus._ Let’s not go overboard.” They walked down the hall and Carol turned to her again. “But thank you.”

From afar Therese stared at Carol as she pushed her hair over her shoulder and sauntered up to Cynthia’s table. If she hadn’t been witness to the mini tantrum Carol had just thrown in her office, Therese would’ve believed Carol was genuinely glad to see Cynthia. 

Dannie arrived at her side, also watching the scene unfold. “So who is that?”

“Her ex-girlfriend.” It probably wasn’t information that Carol wanted divulged, but Therese slipped. Dannie _loved_ gossip, and so did she if she was being honest. But this didn’t feel fun to talk about.

And then something happened that Therese thought made even Dannie hurt for Carol, because he said “ouch” as they saw Cynthia’s girlfriend - well, fiancé apparently - hold out her ring finger and present it to Carol. The diamond had to be visible from space. And awards should’ve been given, should have been _created_ , for the performance Carol gave. She looked thrilled and hugged them both and squeezed Cynthia’s shoulder while they talked for another minute, until finally walking away. 

Therese had busied herself at another table when she saw Carol leaving Cynthia’s, not wanting to make a bad situation worse. But Carol was waiting for her at a server station nearby, arms crossed and mouth held in a thin line. When Therese approached the station and started putting in an order on the computer she didn’t look at Carol, hoping to get away as soon as possible. But Carol leaned in and spoke seriously. 

“If you or any of your friends tell a guest that I’m here without letting me know who it is beforehand, I will waste no time writing any of you up. Dannie is fine today but he should know better. Now, Cynthia is being sent our _cheapest_ sparkling by-the-glass and if they order dessert, let me know and I will comp it. I’m going downstairs if you need anything.”

And with that, Carol disappeared for the rest of the night. Everything else went smoothly. There had been no reason to go bother Carol after she left the dining room floor. Cynthia was nice to Therese, but she was the person bringing her food and wine, after all, so it was in her best interest. Therese couldn’t decide if she was truly pretty, or if she just seemed pretty because her hair was long and thick and wavy and she was fabulous at doing her makeup. Either way, Carol had been dating down. Plus, she tipped just the standard amount and nothing more, like Therese would expect from someone who had been given free drinks and dessert and knew an employee of the restaurant. 

By midnight the place had cleared out and Therese sat at a table with Dannie, Genevieve, and Richard polishing silverware. She’d met Genevieve and Richard a couple times before when Dannie would bring his “work friends” out with him. Genevieve was very friendly to Therese and Richard was just sort of “blah,” but an okay coworker. Eventually, Carol came up to them to collect their cash and receipts, looking over the numbers and counting everything. 

“Are you all done with your side work? Other than the rest of this?” She addressed all four of them and pointed at the unpolished knives. They all said a version of ‘yes,’ clearly eager to leave, and Carol sighed. “Okay. Gen, Dannie, and Richard finish up and you can leave. Therese, I need to borrow you for a few minutes.” 

She started walking through the room, heading toward the hallway that led to the basement and Therese jumped to follow her. Was Carol upset with her? Was she in trouble? As if reading her mind, Carol clarified while they walked. “Everything is fine, I just need to go over some scheduling with you.”

They sat in Carol’s wine-cellar-slash-office. Therese understood now why Carol wore a sweatshirt despite the sweltering early-September heat: the thermostat read 56 degrees. 

“Why is it so cold in here?”

It was the first thing either had said since sitting down. Minutes had passed since Carol had pointed to a chair intended for Therese and then sat a few feet away in her own, poking around on her laptop and pulling up various pages and documents. 

“Because there’s wine in here, Therese.” That was obvious. There were wooden shelves from the floor to ceiling, lining three of the four walls, all filled with bottles of wine resting on their sides. Carol was being a smart-ass and Therese knew it, but she wasn’t sure how to take it. 

But Therese didn’t need to think of something to say back, because Carol started again. “And _that_ question is why you have to do a beverage training before you work next week.” 

_Oh._ Therese blushed. Carol hadn’t said it in an overly condescending way, just straightforwardly. But Therese still felt foolish for asking. 

Either unfazed by or unaware of Therese’s embarrassment, Carol continued. “I know you’re scheduled to work this Saturday and Sunday, but I need you to get this over with before you work again after that. Hopefully before next Thursday, because I’d like to schedule you then, too. You can’t do Wednesdays, correct?”

Therese shook her head. She couldn’t. She told herself she had to set aside at least one consistent day a week to spend time in the studio and Wednesday was the one she picked. 

“Monday or Tuesday?” Therese offered. 

“Tuesday I can’t.” Carol looked at Therese and smiled, almost shyly, breaking some type of resolve. “I have therapy at two and I’m not super stoked on coming here right after.”

The admittance surprised Therese in a good way. She understood, too. That didn’t sound like the best of plans. “Totally fair.”

Carol sat back, pushing away from her desk a little and studied Therese. “Technically it’s my other day off but we’ll just have to do Monday. I should come in and do some inventory anyway, because lord knows it wasn’t done in my absence. What time works for you?”

“Anytime.” She wanted to be agreeable, not more of a nuisance for Carol on her day off.

Carol talked out loud but not exactly to Therese. “If I get here by 11, I can get some work done for a few hours and then we’ll take about an hour and a half so…3pm?”

Therese nodded her head and that was that. Carol told her she would probably want to eat something first, because she had to taste twelve wines and four cocktails. That was also the reason why Carol didn’t let anybody do the beverage training before a shift. “You’ll probably get a little drunk.”

“That’s not an issue for me.” Therese smirked.

“Yes…it generally isn’t for anybody.” Carol side-eyed Therese but her slight smile made it less intimidating. “Okay, now that we’ve solved that, I guess you’re free to go Therese.”

It made no sense, but Therese found herself oddly not wanting to go just yet. Her body lacked any motivation to propel itself up and out the door. It just stuck to the office chair instead. Feet were planted on the ground, not to stand, but to push off and spin the chair in a circle once and then twice. She caught Carol grinning, still staring at her computer screen, and Therese knew there was nothing amusing about making the schedule, so it had to have been because of her. 

Trying to find a reason to stay just a few minutes longer, Therese pushed her luck with the events from earlier. “Did your ex-girlfriend really make you come to her table to tell you she was engaged?” 

Carol’s eyes left the work in front of her and moved to look at Therese. An expression somewhere between annoyance and exasperation fixed itself onto her face. “She sure did.” Her eyebrows raised. “Cool of her, right?”

Therese snorted. “Has she always been that big of a bitch?”

This made Carol throw her head back and laugh, which Therese counted as a win. A win for what, she had no idea. “I guess so. What can I say? I have great taste.”

It occurred to Therese that the reflecting back on things like this could make Carol sad, or regretful, which had not been her goal. But she didn’t want to distract Carol any longer from whatever work she had to get done before leaving for the night, so she finally made to leave. She said goodbye while reminding Carol that she would see her not tomorrow but Saturday - the next day she was scheduled. Just before exiting the confines of the office, she turned back to Carol. “You could do way better, you know? Than her.”

This made Carol turn her head to the side and squint. “You don’t know me, Therese.”

It was so matter-of-fact that Therese couldn’t argue. “You’re right, I don’t. But still. I do know that much.”

Without letting Carol respond, Therese walked out through the basement, stopping at the mess of lockers where she left her coat, and went upstairs and out the door. 

—-

Saturday at work, she didn’t talk to Carol as much. There simply wasn’t any reason, or time, really, because it was busy from the moment they opened until the second they closed. Plus Carol wasn’t the closing manager that night and both Jeanette and Harge were there to help, too. Carol was mostly there to act as a sommelier. She had an assistant with her - a guy named Jack that Therese found more than helpful - but for tables who _really_ knew wine, the servers were instructed to send Carol. 

She did talk to her once that night, though, outside of Therese asking for help with wine. Therese was standing at a server station, entering an order into the computer when Carol came up next to her and leaned to Therese’s ear and whispered, “don’t hold the tray under your arm,” slowly sliding it out from her grip. 

Slightly embarrassed, Therese just glanced to Carol. Her face was unreadable, but she continued, “I know it’s silly, but still. Just…don’t.” 

And then she handed her the tray right side up and walked away. 

On Sunday, Therese only saw Carol when she came to collect the servers’ checks at the end of the night. She looked at the stacks of unpolished glasses they had yet to get to. It was already after midnight, though, and everyone was silently begging her to let them leave. 

“Seriously? What the hell have you been doing for the past hour that we’ve been closed?”

They’d been finishing sidework. Slowly, but trying. Gen just pouted, “it’s been a really long weekend. We’re burnt out.”

Eyes closed and then there was a scoff. “Fine. Just leave. If you work Wednesday, I’ll see you then. Except you, Therese. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

Carol departed for the basement and was soon out of sight. Therese found herself roped in to getting _a_ drink - _maybe_ two - with Gen and Dannie. First she had to stop by her studio space to grab the bag of supplies she’d left there before work. 

The studio was part of the reason she’d asked Dannie to get her this job - her small spot in a communal space near Union Square cost her half of what she paid to rent her apartment. It was going to be worth it, though, if she could carve out enough time to be there. Gone were the days of her access to her college’s facilities, and her current apartment simply did not have the room for all of the canvases and paints like her previous place had. Plus, scraping and scrubbing oil paint stains from her furniture had grown old. Knowing the room to work was necessary if she had hope of anyone but herself taking her career seriously, she caved and signed to be a member of the shared studio. 

It was nearly 1am by the time she’d met her friends at a bar nearby work. They were already a drink - maybe two - deep, but Therese wasn’t in any hurry to catch up. If she had to do this beverage tasting with Carol tomorrow, she certainly didn’t want to show up hungover. It was nerve wracking enough to think about sober. She brought it up to Dannie. 

“Don’t be nervous, it’s kind of fun. Since Gen and I were hired around the same time we did it together and we sort of loved it. Right Gen?” She hadn’t been totally listening, and asked what it was they loved. “That wine thing we had to do with Carol when we first started.”

Gen agreed. “Oh, yeah. It wasn’t bad at all. We learned a lot and she let us get, like, kind of sloshed and then just sent us on our way.”

It made her feel a little better, but Therese wasn’t completely convinced. Gen and Dannie were able to do it together. They tried reassuring her that this wasn’t some sort of test, that Carol didn’t expect you to actually _know_ anything beforehand and that she just wanted you to learn what was on the wine and cocktail lists. That was it. Gen being so emphatic about it seemed strange, considering she never seemed too keen about Carol. “I thought you didn’t like her.”

“I don’t _not like_ her, I just think she’s unfriendly. Like, she doesn’t want anything to do with us. I wouldn’t expect Harge or Jeanette to, but Carol can’t be that much older than us. She just acts above it all.”

Dannie had his own stories. “I mean, I like her. She’s real cool to work with. But sometimes she’s kind of unapproachable, ya know? I’ve seen her out, what, ten times? Once at an LCD Soundsystem concert last year. One time at a bar. Never gone up to her. Don’t really know why.”

The topic changed to “anything but work, please.” Half an hour passed and Gen left before Therese and Dannie with plans to meet other friends at a different bar in the West Village. It was already 2am, and Therese had no intention of getting a third drink after she finished her second. Dannie was disappointed, but understanding. Waiting to pay their tab, Dannie brought up Gen. “I think she has a thing for you. I mean, I know she does. ‘Cause she told me. Would you ever want to hang out with her? Or just, like, fuck her?” 

Unsure of how to respond to such an eloquently put question - and also unsure of the answer in general - Therese just shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Probably not, though. Gen was cute, for sure, but that was about it. But she was one of Dannie’s close-ish friends, so Therese kept those thoughts to herself. 

Leaving Therese with a “think about it,” and a quick hug, she and Dannie went their separate ways. Even at 2am on a Sunday - well, technically Monday now - Sixth Avenue wasn’t quiet. Her thoughts went to the possibility of Genevieve. It would be fine if she could just have sex with her and nothing more - Therese hadn’t slept with anyone since she unceremoniously dumped her boyfriend four months prior - but it could get awkward if Gen had other expectations. They worked together, after all.

While pondering this, she noticed the person ahead of her. She liked her pants - the kind that were tight at the ankle and then slightly looser through the thighs. _Joggers?_ A sliver of her back was exposed where it looked like her shirt must be tied in the front. Made sense, it was ungodly humid right now. Recognition clicked when Therese’s gaze landed on the woman’s messy bun, hair falling at the nape of her neck and around her ears: it was Carol. 

Relaxed either from Gen and Dannie’s earlier assurances, or it could’ve been the two vodka sodas sinking into her bloodstream, Therese was bold enough to call out her name just as Carol was putting earbuds into her ears. 

“ _Carol!_ ”

Therese picked up her pace to catch up as Carol stopped in her tracks and whipped her head around. Though it melted away when she realized who it was, Therese briefly caught the tension Carol held on her face. 

“Oh, Therese. Hi.” It was restrained, but Carol was smiling. “Where are you coming from? And going to?”

She nodded her head in the direction of the bar two blocks away. “I was with Dannie. And Gen.” A nearly undetectable flash of annoyance passed over Carol’s features. “I’m going to the C. I live in Clinton Hill.”

Now Carol truly smiled. Wide, and Therese admired her teeth. “No kidding. I live in Prospect Heights. We’re neighbors.” There was a pause that wasn’t awkward though it should’ve been, then Carol nodded her head toward the West Fourth Street station. “Shall we?”

—-

Carol usually wasn’t a fan of unexpected voices calling her name. At 2am. After spending eleven hours at work. But a tingling feeling in her chest caused her to have to bite back too wide of a smile when she turned and saw the person who had _just_ been on her mind - who had been on her mind since Thursday, if she was totally honest. 

“Oh, Therese. Hi.”


	2. Chapter 2

Therese should’ve known it was a stupid question before it left her mouth. But she asked it. “Where are _you_ coming from?”

Carol furrowed her brows and then gave a little look of disbelief. “Um, the place where we work?”

But it was 2am, Therese thought, why was she there so late? Her and the other servers, even the two bartenders, had left hours ago. “Why were you there so late?”

“Because those glasses don’t polish themselves.” 

_Oof._ Carol didn’t look at Therese while saying it, keeping her eyes down at the the sidewalk instead. It was almost as if Carol didn’t want to make Therese feel bad. Almost. 

But she did feel bad. “I didn’t actually realize you’d stay so late finishing our work. Why did you let us leave?” She was their manager, after all. 

“Because if I didn’t then you would all hate me and talk about me behind my back more than you do.”

Well, she had a point. Therese imagined Genevieve would have sparked the campaign against Carol and it would’ve snowballed from there, creating the narrative for the rest of the week that Carol was mean to them. Clearly she was not. Because instead, Therese, Gen, and Dannie went out drinking while Carol stayed behind in order for them to do so. It was all so catty. 

“Don’t worry about it Therese, I’m used to it by now.” Carol just smiled, but it wasn’t genuine. The subject was quickly changed. “What’s in your bag?”

She pointed at the canvas art supply bag. Therese forgot sometimes that the bag wasn’t obvious to people who didn’t regularly douse themselves in paint and pastels. “Way too many brushes and some paint and brush cleaner. Other things.”

They walked down into the subway station and through the turnstile. Waiting on the platform, Carol asked her more. “What kind of art do you do?”

“Well, mostly oil painting. Abstract stuff. It’s...divisive.” That made Carol laugh again and Therese smiled before continuing. “When I applied to Cooper Union I intended to go for illustration, but I wound up doing _this_ instead.”

She watched as Carol’s raised one eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Wow, Cooper Union. That’s serious stuff. I’ve heard about their home test.” 

Yes, the home test. It was a series of questions to be answered in any way, using any medium, as part of the application. Admittedly, Therese had been very proud of hers. “It was fun, really. I made them this very elaborate pop-up book and a board game. One of the questions was something like, ‘how do you get from point A to point D.’” 

Carol was leaning against a beam on the platform now, arms folded, smiling in earnest at Therese. “You sound very talented.” 

It was a hard comment to respond to. Maybe she was talented, if her past endeavors were any indication. But was cleverness the same as talent? Therese didn’t know. She supposed she’d let other people decide that for her. People like Carol, perhaps. Their conversation was conveniently interrupted by the arriving train. They boarded and the doors closed as they sat down. Carol had her own set of belongings with her. She’d focus on that. 

“What’s in the box?” She parroted Carol’s words as she pointed to the small cardboard to-go container in her hands. It was from work, obviously, but she still found herself curious. 

“Oh, it’s just something Darren made.” A lot of people had been introduced to Therese in the past week or so, and she made a face that showed her need for clarification, which Carol picked up on. “Pastry chef. They’re so good, actually. They’re like little petit fours. They’re cute.” 

It occurred to Therese to not be nosey, but she already had been with Carol. What harm would just a little more prying do? “Can I see?” 

Therese didn’t expect Carol to actually hesitate, but she did. It was, apparently, just a box of tiny pastries, after all. For a moment Therese thought Carol might be lying, but for what? Carol must have caught the strangeness in her reluctance because she wound up saying, “of course,” and opened the box. 

So there _was_ a reason for Carol’s pause. Two reasons. The first was that these were not just any chocolate truffles. They reeked. Like, of weed. How had that not seeped through the confines of the flimsy cardboard? The second reason was the letters decorating the tops of each chocolate piece: it didn’t take much unscrambling to realize they spelt out ‘Happy Birthday.’ Therese also took note that none had gone missing yet. 

“Carol, when is your birthday?” 

More reluctance. Carol looked at her phone before replying. “Technically today.” 

“Today? Like, since it’s now past midnight it’s today? Monday?” 

Carol nodded once. “Yes.” 

It wasn’t like Therese should’ve known. Or even like she should’ve asked. But she wished there was a way she could’ve somehow. 

“Carol! Happy birthday.” Therese beamed and Carol’s grin slowly grew. But maybe she didn’t like the attention because her cheeks turned pink when she said, “thank you, Therese.” 

“So how old are you turning?” Therese’s lips turned into a smirk and Carol’s eyes rolled. 

“Ugh, must we? Thirty-four.” 

Thirty-four seemed about right. Though Carol had the air of someone older. But that could’ve been her role in Therese’s mind next to Harge and Jeanette, who both had to have been in their late forties. 

“How are you celebrating?” Therese loved birthdays. Without consistent parental figures as a child, her birthday was never a big deal. But when she reached adulthood, the allure of birthdays became understandable. Friends now showered her with attention and nights out and gifts. 

“Well, I’ll be spending part of my day teaching you about wine.” 

Carol winked so quickly Therese thought she might’ve imagined it. But it didn’t help Therese from feeling terrible all over again, this time for making Carol work on her birthday. Her hand moved to cover her face, embarrassed by her mindless question, but Carol grabbed her wrist and intercepted her hand in its path. She thought she felt a squeeze before Carol quickly let go, but probably not. 

“Therese, stop! It’s fine, honestly. I have to come in anyway. Besides, this is one of the few parts of my job I actually enjoy.” 

Her words convinced Therese enough. But it was the implication that most of the time, Carol disliked her job that interested Therese. “You don’t like your job?” 

A cynical laugh accompanied Carol’s quiet reply. “No.” 

If her manager - whom Therese had met only days ago - was willing to be this blunt with her at 2am on the train, then she’d seize the opportunity, unsure when - or if - it would present itself again. 

“Why not?” 

Carol smiled softly, apologetically, before she responded. “Lots of reasons, I suppose. I’m sick of the hours; I haven’t had a girlfriend in maybe three years and that has a lot to do with it. I’m wildly overworked. And being disliked by everyone you work with isn’t the best feeling.” Therese went to speak but Carol added, “except Harge and Jeanette. But the only reason they don’t hate me is because I do everything so they don’t have to.” 

Hearing Carol so down about her job, especially when she mentioned people disliking her, made Therese hurt for her. Carol was her favorite coworker so far - save for Dannie, but Dannie wasn’t really just her coworker. Something about Carol’s presence enlivened Therese. Both at work and right now, just sitting next to her. 

Therese wanted to spend the next twenty minutes on the train picking Carol’s brain. About herself. But Carol must have had other ideas because Therese found the tables turned, and soon she was talking about growing up in New Jersey in foster care, the restaurants she worked at prior to this one, her roommates who she barely knew, and when they reached the Franklin Street station Therese had gotten the following from Carol: she’s from Seattle. But Carol seemed to have enjoyed Therese’s company for the ride. Even finding her interesting. 

Above ground, Carol asked which way Therese was headed, which wound up being the same direction that she needed to go, so they walked together for a couple blocks. 

“Oh, do you want a few of these?” Carol opened the to-go box of chocolates. “Wait, you do realize these are edibles, right? I don’t need to - ”

Even outside in the open air, the smell was potent. “Yes, of course. It’s pretty obvious. And, sure, I guess. Thanks.” 

There was an unspoken conversation regarding how Therese would transport these. She couldn’t carry them, or even one. It was too hot outside and they’d melt all over. Both Therese and Carol sifted through their bags to look for anything acceptable. Therese knew nothing in her supply bag would do - and her purse wasn’t looking promising either. Carol had abandoned her black leather shoulder bag in favor of looking through her larger black satchel. She must have remembered something, because her face was more determined and she started giving Therese stuff to hold as she looked. Finally, the tiniest Tupperware. 

“Here, nothing was in here except for a spice I stole from work.” 

She gave Therese four of her truffles and told her, “do not eat an entire one at once. I’m serious. You’ll be fine with less than half.” Then she squeezed Therese’s shoulder before adding, “see you tomorrow Therese.” 

Therese smiled the entire rest of her walk home. Yes, she would see Carol tomorrow. What she’d love to be able to do is go home and immediately fall asleep, not waking up until she had to start getting ready to see Carol again, but there was no way her brain would shut itself off so easily. 

She wanted to know more about Carol. Anything and everything. Finding out more would be relatively simple, because she did what any self-respecting millennial would do and Googled her. _Carol Aird_. The top results were definitely her Carol. There were plenty of articles. Therese was impressed: Carol was accomplished. Like, truly. She’d been on lists for best sommeliers of the year for a handful of magazines. There was an article where she’d been interviewed about rosè. Another few about her leaving her last job to become the beverage director where they worked. Apparently she was not only a sommelier but an _advanced_ one - not that Therese knew exactly what that meant - but she’d watched about half of the documentary _Somm_ , about the master sommeliers, so…it was somewhere many alcoholic beverages below that. 

A real discovery was made when Therese found a lovely photo to accompany one of the write-ups. Carol had a tattoo. Under her arm on her rib cage. In a coca-cola style font, the words “Txakoli Me.” Obviously some wine joke Therese didn’t get, but that was neither here nor there, because she had an idea. 

——- 

When she got ready that morning, Therese told herself she took extra time because of her friend’s play she had to go to in the evening. That was why she changed her lip color three times and spent twenty minutes fixing her hair. The heat from yesterday at settled to a more manageable 78 degrees, for which Therese was grateful she wouldn’t need to worry about sweating off her makeup completely. It wasn’t windy, either, so her choice of a black tank top with thin straps tucked into a black flouncy mini skirt with tiny white daisies wasn’t regrettable. 

She’d gotten up extra early to go to her studio. One of the people she shared the space with had a sticker printer, and he said she was welcome to use it if he met her there by noon. Carol carried a water bottle with her that was metal and covered in stickers. After finding the picture of Carol with her tattoo, Therese stayed up sketching the perfect recreation of it and then some. Needless to say, Therese was pretty satisfied with herself. She made three stickers that said “Txakoli Me,” one metallic, one yellow, and one red. Last night, Carol had asked her about her artwork, so Therese grabbed a couple different postcards she used for networking and put them with the stickers inside a birthday card she quickly handmade. But using card stock and watercolors, it looked pretty great. The envelope was sealed and she was on her way to meet Carol with time to spare. 

She saw Carol before Carol saw her, because she was behind the bar, turned around, and standing on a crate to count bottles on higher shelves. Her usual work attire was unnecessary, Therese guessed, and had been swapped for _short_ black denim shorts and with a tucked in white t-shirt that was so thin Therese could see the clasp to her red bra. She’d wait a second before giving Carol indication she was here. There was no rush. 

But she also wanted to talk to her. “Oh, hey.” 

Maybe she sensed Therese’s presence because Carol didn’t falter. She just turned and flashed a smile. “Hey, yourself. Ready to do this?” 

Carol stepped off the crate and walked over to where Therese had taken a barstool and leaned across from her over the counter on her elbows. 

Therese was ready, but she had the card for her. “Yes! Very much so. But, I have something for you.” 

The furrow of Carol’s brows left when Therese slid the envelope with her name on it across the bar top. “Oh, Therese, this is so…” 

“Open it!” 

It was like Carol was looking at puzzle pieces and unsure where to start. Slowly, she unsealed the flap and took out the card. Her smile was part disbelief and part affection. The card opened and her eyes registered the stickers. 

“Oh. My god. What…” Carol stopped to assess. “How? Did you Google me? Therese!” And Therese held up her hands in defense as Carol snapped the envelope at her. 

Therese could only laugh and Carol started laughing with her. “Creepiness aside, this is truly the sweetest thing ever. And is this your artwork? Therese, it’s fantastic.” 

Her words were groundingly genuine and it took Therese by surprise. “Thank you.” 

Carol shook her head. “No, thank you. I can’t believe you did all this. It’s so thoughtful. Really, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday. Thank you for coming in to do this wine thing with me.” 

There was a moment of _oh, right, that,_ and Carol set a couple of wine glasses in front of Therese. She explained these were the two they used most often: large tulip for sparkling and all-purpose glass for almost everything sold by-the-glass. No, they didn’t use Champagne flutes because they aren’t good for tasting things, they just look nice. Carol poured Therese two sparkling wines first, a cava and a Champagne and when Carol poured her another taste of the Champagne and told her to think about bread and butter, Therese could tell the difference. 

She switched glasses and poured rosè, asking Therese what it tastes like to her. “There’s no wrong answer. Well, kind of.” 

Carol seemed pleased when Therese said strawberries, but if they’d been grilled. 

They moved on to white and Therese said she felt weird drinking alone, so Carol pulled an all-purpose glass from the shelf without much arm-twisting. Carol told Therese to sell their Sancerre by-the-glass when people (“ _middle aged white women_ ”) asked for Sauv Blanc. Listening to Carol talk about wine was fascinating because she made it that way. When Therese didn’t understand tannins, Carol found a black tea bag and let it steep for too long. Then she made Therese drink it. “Leaves your mouth dry after it’s gone.” 

She asked if Therese had a wine key, and when Therese pulled it from her bag, she inspected it for two seconds and threw it in the garbage. “You need to practice opening bottles at tables, because I have better things to do, so if you text me tomorrow, you can come by my place and I’ll give you a new wine key and a few bottles. But you really do have to use them to practice.”

When all was said and done, Therese had filled a page and a half of her Moleskin with notes. She was also glad she’d eaten like Carol recommended because otherwise she’d for sure be drunk. 

She wasn’t drunk, but she did have a similar confidence to last night running through her veins. “What are you doing now?” 

Carol was polishing the glasses they’d used. “Going home, I guess. I have a few hours before I’m supposed to meet my friends.” 

“Well, I happen to have a few hours before I have to see this play later. Can I buy you a drink for your birthday and as my final ‘thank you’ for doing this today?” 

It was a limb, no doubt, but Therese tried it. And Carol was at least considering, because her eyes squinted slightly. Finally she said, “I have a better idea,” and reached into the bar fridge, pulling out a bottle of sparkling rosè that had been opened but capped with a sparkling wine stopper. “Let’s take this - because it’s off the list as of today so no one will miss it - and go to Washington Square Park.” 

That _was_ a better idea. She told Therese to leave first, though, because it was 4pm and front-of-house staff were trickling in, and technically they weren’t supposed to be hanging out. A rule that was stupid, according to Carol. And according to Therese, now, too. Carol went to grab her stuff and find something for them to sit on while Therese made her way to the arch at the park’s entrance and waited. 

Carol arrived not three minutes later, tablecloth (the restaurant didn’t use tablecloths, so where that came from, Therese hadn’t a clue) in hand and wine and two plastic cups in her bag. They found a spot in the shade and set everything up. Carol warned before unstopping the bottle: “it they put this on wrong, it might make a noise. So get ready to run from some police.” 

It wasn’t loud enough to alert the authorities and they were in the clear. 

It was such an odd day. Therese had spent the better part of it either with Carol or thinking about her. And Therese considered that Carol was her manager and she was knowingly breaking some weird rule to lay out in the park and drink wine with Therese on her birthday. Hopefully she wasn’t just being friendly and secretly wanted to be somewhere else. On today of all days. But she had an out and didn’t take it. That was only a good sign. 

They talked casually about Carol’s trip from last week that was “ _not_ a vacation” because she had been forced to go for work. She said if she was taking paid time off, she wouldn’t find herself in San Francisco. Therese mentioned she’d only been to San Francisco once, and she liked it but left feeling depressed and hadn’t any desire to go back. She did have her palm read there, though, which was fun. 

“I’ve never had my palm read or anything like that. If I wanted to, I’d just put my money directly into the garbage,” Carol replied. 

“Well, I happen to be an expert, so allow me.” Therese wasn’t, of course, but Carol laughed when she grabbed her hand and flipped it palm-side up. She used a pen from her bag and traced one of the creases. “This is your life line.” 

“Uh-huh…” Carol gave her head a dramatic nod. “And?” 

“You’re already dead, which seems alarming. This is your vacation line…” 

“Right, the famous vacation line that every palm reader is always talking about.” Carol was practically beaming at Therese at this point. 

Therese drew a thick line over another crease. “Yeah, the vacation line. Anyway, you need one, hence me drawing it for you. And this is your heart line…” 

Carol shook her head. “It all checked out until now. I can tell you’re full of shit because I don’t have a heart.” 

The wine was making her bubbly and Therese batted Carol’s hand away from her grasp. “Saw that one coming from a mile away.” 

Carol was laughing hard, so Therese suspected she was getting a little tipsy herself. “I know, I’m so predictable.” 

She laid on her back and Therese settled on her side, elbow propping her up, and they spent the next half an hour talking about where they would go if they had vacation time and money to use. Therese would remember: Greece and Georgia. Not the state, though Carol thought the state was lovely too. Eventually it was time for her to be on her way, and she found it near impossible to get up and leave Carol. 

“Thanks for hanging out with me.” 

It was Carol who said it, which was crazy. And Therese had no idea what to say so she just asked, “why Txakoli?” 

Carol smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Ever been to Basque?” When Therese shook her head no, Carol said, “we’ll put that on the list after Greece.” 

——- 

The entire time Therese had Carol’s hand in her grasp, Carol prayed she couldn’t feel her pulse beneath her wrist as it raced out of control. It had been awhile since someone as beautiful as Therese had given her so much attention. She hadn’t the slightest idea _why_ Therese gave a fuck about her - it probably had plenty to do with getting on Carol’s good side so she was primed to be asked for favors (if so, it was working) - but she wasn’t about to turn down company from someone like Therese. 

Now Carol laid on her stomach, resting up on her elbows, and read the texts from her friends confirming plans for tonight. They’d meet at Carol’s, drink while deciding where to go first, and then go out. Probably get hammered if Abby had her way. Carol was excited. Sort of. But she’d already had the most wonderful birthday. Unexpected, too. 

Her face flushed when she thought about Therese laid out on her side in the grass next to her, already short skirt falling up her hips, and her dimples deepening as she laughed. She felt guilty when she thought about dragging her hand up Therese’s hip to push her skirt up even more, or climbing on top of her in the grass, but her mind went there anyway. But those thoughts would be pushed aside for now, because she felt arms slink around her neck from behind and a loud voice that she’d recognize in even the densest of crowds. “Happy birthday!” 

Abby’s ability to muster up enthusiasm for literally anything would never cease to amaze Carol. Maybe it was amplified by the contrast of Carol’s total _inability_ to find much to look forward to lately, too. Tonight Abby was absolutely planning to use Carol’s birthday as an excuse to make her wife look after their not-yet-two-year-old so Abby could “assist” in getting Carol wasted. 

Immediately after her greeting, Abby surveyed the scene in front of her. She noticed the second cup stacked underneath Carol’s. 

“You were with someone. Who was here?” 

Usually proud of her fibbing on-the-fly, Carol found herself badly lacking. “Nobody.” It was the weakest of lies, and she didn’t bother trying to double down on it, knowing Abby saw right through. 

“ _Excuse me?_ Carol. Who were you with just now?” Her light tone got intense - but still always teasing - when Carol didn’t reply. “ _Who were you with?_ ” 

There was no reason to bother. “No one. Just…Therese. She’s a new server we hired. I had to do the beverage training thing with her and then we came here after. That’s all.” 

Carol knew that Abby would know that wasn’t all. It never was. She braced herself but the prodding never came. “Okay,” a skeptical glint stayed in Abby’s eyes. Like Abby knew something that Carol didn’t. And she probably did. Her gentle smile was disarming. “Anything else you want to not talk to me about?” 

“Nope. Let’s go. I’d like to get drunk now, please.” 

The tablecloth was folded with Abby’s help and they walked toward West 4th Street to head back to Brooklyn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smitten kitten Carol.
> 
> Yeah? Yeah.
> 
> Oh, another note: for those who don’t know, Txakoli is pronounced cha-kuh-lee or cha-koh-lee and occasionally is called Txakolina. It’s not a varietal of wine, it’s more of a style and that style is slightly bubbly. Usually white, usually very dry, and is best consumed within the year of production. Anyway, I’m not an expert in the slightest, so that’s all I’ve got.


	3. Chapter 3

“You guys, who do we think we _are?_ I have a job! It’s Tuesday. I had to tell my boss I had a family emergency and just…left.” 

Tessie crumpled herself onto Carol’s bed in her darkened bedroom. All the shades drawn and lights off. Last night with her friends had been fun. Maybe? Carol couldn’t remember all of it. And now she just wanted to die. Her friend Jessica was burrowed somewhere in her bed, too, unmoving. 

“I’m thirty-four, not twenty-four. What were we thinking? I’m going to be hungover for days.” Carol still hadn’t removed her sleep mask. It was past 11am already.

Jessica’s disembodied voice came from under the covers. “Honestly, it was all Abby. She’s not invited to these things anymore.”

Abby was always the ring leader, and somehow she never wound up feeling quite as terrible as the rest of them. She claimed to - Carol and Jessica had just FaceTimed her and she was in her office at work, lights dimmed, looking miserable. 

After leaving Manhattan with Abby yesterday, they’d gone to Carol’s place and Abby pulled out a bottle of 1985 Charles Heidsieck Charlie. “I know you were born in ‘84 but, you know, it’s a garbage vintage. This will have to do.”

It was far too much. A bottle of champagne that easily cost Abby over four or five hundred. But this was what Abby did. She’d always been generous, and had always had money, but ever since marrying Alexandra, she’d kicked it up several notches. Her income and trust fund had become vanity money because Alexandra was a comptroller. Even Abby could hardly explain just exactly what it was Alexandra did all day, but it was clearly important based on the number of digits in her salary.

“Abby, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Abby wasn’t even trying to play it cool and giggled when Carol handed her a decanter. “I know, right? You deserve this though. You’ve worked your ass off this year and I really can’t thank you enough for all of your help with Rindy.”

As if looking after Abby’s daughter from time-to-time was any sort of hardship. Plus, staying in Abby and Alexandra’s condo in Park Slope when she babysat wasn’t bad either. “If this is what I get in return, I’m happy to quit my job and become a full-time nanny.”

“This could be completely past drinkability, I don’t know, we’ll see. But!” Abby stopped and Carol should’ve known there would be one. “While this decants, I want you to tell me what’s going on because I feel like I haven’t talked to you since you called me from San Francisco. _And_ I want to know who you were with earlier.”

Carol clicked her tongue. She should’ve seen this coming, thought of something to say when Abby inevitably asked. “Not much has happened since San Francisco. I got back, of course nobody had done a thing when I was gone, so I’ve just been working twelve or thirteen hours a day. The usual.”

Maybe she could skip the rest…

“And the park earlier?”

Or maybe not.

“It really was exactly what I told you. I was hanging out with a server, Therese. She was just hired.”

Abby tilted her head back and squinted. It was too mundane to believe. “But you don’t hang out with employees. You take Harge’s rules too seriously to do that.”

Taking rules similar to Harge’s seriously was never something Abby had done. It was a large reason for their friendship. They’d met when Carol was twenty and took a part time job as a hostess where Abby was a floor manager. Abby was only twenty-four at the time, but she had been instructed to not be friends with employees outside of work, just like Carol now. The difference was, when Abby thought something was frivolous, she ignored it. And here they were, nearly fourteen years later.

Carol gave Abby an intense look, one that begged her to _let it go_ but she was insistent. “Why the change, Carol?”

Reading the label on the bottle, sniffing the top of the decanter, putting her hair in a bun - there were plenty of ways to kill thirty, forty, fifty seconds. None of them took Abby’s expectant eyes off of her. Finally, Carol drew a deep breath in. “I don’t know. She asked me to get a drink and we wound up doing that instead. I ran into her on the train last night, too. She’s just really nice.”

“ _And…_ ” Abby was waving her hand to try and get Carol to continue.

“And…she’s completely gorgeous. She’s interesting, and funny, and really talented.” Abby grinned wide listening to this. Carol knew that Abby wanted badly for Carol to meet someone. This could _not_ be that person, however. “But she’s young and my employee.”

“Carol, _you’re_ young. And fuck this whole employee thing for a minute. I barely know anybody in the industry that’s so strict about managers being friends with employees. Half of the managers were servers, like, last week.”

It wasn’t a bad point. She, Harge, and Jeanette had talked to the owner and chef for a little while about adding another manager to the mix. The idea was nixed, much to Carol’s dismay, but the plan would’ve been to promote one of the servers. “I know. But I don’t want her to feel like she’s obligated to like me because I’m her boss.”

Abby went to open a different bottle of wine that she found in Carol’s fridge. She walked back in, uncorking the bottle while firing back. “Oh, I didn’t realize you felt so _obligated_ to fuck me back when we met. _And_ you were a virgin. I didn’t care.”

_Well then._

True, but, Carol wasn’t Abby, as much as she admired her. Carol’s daring had its limits. There was something to be said about where Abby’s moxie got her, though. 

“She made me stickers. For my water bottle, I think.” Carol was stuck between wanting to tell Abby every little bit of her day and about last night and the past few nights she’d seen Therese, but at the same time she wanted to shove it all back inside of her and hope the feelings would pass. She reached into her bag and put the stickers on the coffee table.

Abby was beside herself. “Holy shit. Carol, this is the sweetest present ever. Therese made these?” 

She sure did. And Carol just about melted into a puddle. And out came the details of Carol lounging in the park with Therese, and the wine tasting, and the train ride home the previous night, where Carol had gotten off the train - not at her stop - but the next, less convenient one just to spend an extra few minutes with Therese. She told Abby about watching Therese glide around the restaurant and talk to her tables all weekend. She was naturally good at her job; her shyness with guests came across sweetly. And _oh, yeah Cynthia!_ She hadn’t told Abby about that, yet. 

Abby was in disbelief. First about Carol’s gushing (she hadn’t seen this in a while) and now about the audacity of Cynthia. “She’s a giant cunt. I can’t believe you dated her. And for a year and a half.” 

Carol had been talking so long that Abby was now on her way to being tipsy. It was a good stopping point to her monologue about Therese.

Tessie came over next, in all her vivacious, sorority-conditioned energy. Her addition to Carol and Abby’s small circle of friends was odd - she was extremely straight, which wasn’t the standard for them, but she fit right in anyway. On occasion her husband did, too. It might not have been the group of friends they were expecting when they’d moved to the city from Denver three years back, but so far they hadn’t seemed to have any complaints.

Eventually Jessica showed up - a friend Carol had met under unusual circumstances. Six years ago they matched on Tinder, met, and somehow mutually agreed that they wouldn’t be having any relationship beyond strictly platonic friends. 

And these were Carol’s closest friends now. Sure, she had plenty more; she’d lived in the city long enough. But when it came to the ones who would go out on a Monday night (because Mondays were usually Carol’s Saturdays) despite having work the next day, she could solidly count on Abby, Tessie, and Jessica. But the people who made her take shots last night, those were not her friends, those were monsters. And whoever said, “ _let’s just go there next, it’s open until 4am,”_ had better be going directly to hell. Carol realized on second thought, that might’ve been her. 

It was time to get up and face the sunlight. Tessie snuggled into Carol’s abandoned spot in her bed next to Jessica and Carol wandered into her bathroom. There were few things Carol hated more than sleeping in her makeup. To her pleasant surprise, before even looking in the mirror, she grabbed for a false eyelash and found it already removed. 

“Did I take off my makeup last night?” She called to her friends, but her reflection confirmed it. 

Jessica cackled and shouted back, “you didn’t just take off your makeup. You did your entire skincare routine. You jade rolled. It took like 30 minutes, Carol.”

Carol shrugged to herself. At least she managed to do that. She was a creature of habit, after all, one with a very unshakeable routine.

A few minutes went by and Tessie called out from the other room. “Carol you have a text from an unsaved number. Want me to read it?” 

Trying to figure out how not to vomit while brushing her teeth, Carol just made some permissive noise and listened when Tessie read. 

“It says, ‘Hey Carol, it’s Therese. Just seeing if I could pick up that wine key from you in the next couple hours before I go to the studio. Thanks!’ Who’s Therese?”

 _No._ She’d forgotten she had told Therese to come by today and get the wine key and bottles. How had she forgotten? She couldn’t say no, though. Therese actually needed this for work. This was part of Carol’s job. But right now, Carol just felt like she looked terrible. Her place was kind of a mess, too. She hounded into her bedroom where Tessie had her phone, toothbrush clenched between her teeth. Something that sounded like, “give me that,” left her mouth as she yanked her phone away. 

As she read the text over and over again, she heard Jessica mimic Tessie’s unanswered question: “who’s Therese?”

Without responding , Carol went to the bathroom and finished brushing her teeth. Tessie and Jessica appeared in the doorway, watching her closely. 

“Carol,” Tessie’s arms were folded when Carol met her gaze, eyes narrowed and grinning. “Who’s Therese? One time I wanted to borrow a corkscrew and you made me leave a shoe here. I live below you. Now you’re just giving them out?”

It wasn’t that Carol was weird about her wine keys - they were just corkscrews, of course - but she collected them, sort of. They were usually given to her by winemakers and distributors and other industry friends. Besides, Tessie had been a unique case. She’d “borrowed” at least three books that Carol had never seen again.

“She works at the restaurant.” That should be specific enough. 

This time Jessica went to call her bluff. “Funny, because you’ve never mentioned her before. And since when do you let people you work with come to your apartment?”

It was no use and now Carol felt like they were wasting time that she could’ve been using to make herself and her apartment look halfway presentable. “Can we please not do this and clean up a little bit because I think we all know what’s going on here.” Tessie and Jessica’s smiles went from predatory to earnest, and they both went to work. 

Carol typed out a message. 

_Hey Therese. Come over whenever, I’ll be around until 1. Fair warning, a couple of my friends are here and we’re beyond hungover. Just let me know when you’re on your way._

That should do it. She sent it, along with her address (hopefully Therese wouldn’t notice she lived closer to the Clinton Street Station than the Franklin one). Her dishwasher was loaded thanks to Tessie, Jessica made her bed (Carol would have to remake it later, but it would do for now) and Carol used the time to run a brush through her hair and wash her face. Her glasses would have to hide everything else. 

It was no longer hot as hell outside, and all of Carol’s windows were opened to let in a breeze. It was hotter inside than outside, though, and her friends used this as justification when telling Carol, “yes, you _should_ wear those denim shorts that barely cover your ass. It’s _too hot in here_ to wear a shirt that has fabric thick enough to be opaque.”

Therese was well on her way by now and Tessie and Jessica were trying to leave. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

They were leaving, they explained, as if it was obvious. But they couldn’t. Not yet. At least they had to stay until Therese gets here. And hearing that, they knew Carol was serious and sat back down on the sofa with her in the middle. Flipped through channels, found an old episode of _Real Housewives_ , and waited until they heard a buzzer. 

Carol jumped when it sounded. Before pressing the button to let Therese inside, she glanced at her friends’ faces. “Don’t look like that. Don’t smile. Be normal, I beg of you.” 

She buzzed her in and opened the door to her unit, listening and waiting as Therese walked up. And then she appeared on the third floor landing, a tight yellow tank top and tiny olive green shorts clinging to her, and Carol felt that familiar flurry in her chest - the one she’d been feeling every time Therese so much as crossed her mind. 

“Hey, Miss Hangover.” Therese pulled wayfarer sunglasses off of her face and hung them on the front of her shirt. “Somebody have fun last night?”

Carol just groaned and put her face to the back of her hand that had been gripping the doorframe. Then she stepped aside to let Therese walk in. “Therese, this is Jessica and Tessie.”

Thankfully, both weren’t acting weird. Tessie might have been smiling a little too much, but they stayed seated on the couch, waving at Therese. Jessica turned off the TV. She said it was nice to meet Therese, but they’d better get going. Tessie agreed, telling Carol she’d be downstairs all day if she wanted to come over later. And just like that, they left Carol alone with Therese. 

Her kitchen was compact, to say the least. A narrow tile path ran between countertops on one side and a fridge and oven on the other. Carol opened a drawer containing her corkscrews and looked at Therese. “Pick one,” then she took one out. “Not this one. I just got this when I went to Detroit to visit my friend. I planned a little extended layover on the way to San Francisco. Just a day.”

Therese smiled and sifted through the collection, choosing a maroon handled one Carol had gotten from some vineyard in Sonoma. Carol looked at it first to make sure it would hold up, and then handed it back to Therese. 

“Alright, I’m going to give you this,” she pulled out a wine bag from her pantry, “and these,” she finished, loading the bag with three bottles - two whites and one red. 

“This is too nice of you, Carol. Thank you.”

It wasn’t overly nice, Carol thought. She’d do the same for any of her servers or bartenders if they just asked. Therese hadn’t asked, but still. 

She leaned against the kitchen counter and Therese did the same opposite of her. Carol tried to explain her reasoning. “Look, I want you to practice this because you need to know how to do these things. _I_ need you to know how to do these things because it’s reflective of me. I’m not trying to be a stickler when I get on everyone’s cases about not selling enough bottles or not knowing enough about our wines, but frankly - as ridiculous as it sounds - this is my life’s work, and my livelihood, and it sometimes hurts my feelings when you guys don’t take it seriously.” 

The words just left her mouth and she had absolutely no idea why she was admitting these things to Therese. It would be easy to assume she’d leave here and go tell Dannie or Gen or Richard or any of her other coworkers about how annoying Carol had been, begging her to practice and learn the wine list, but that didn’t seem like Therese. Especially when she listened so intently and then replied, “I totally understand.”

Still slightly embarrassed by her little speech, Carol just gave Therese a thankful smile and then cast her eyes down at the floor. 

Therese spoke, seemingly wrapping things up. “Well, I’m going to drop these off at home and then make my way to the studio.” Her sunglasses came back on. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, just apologizing to my liver until I have to leave for therapy.” Carol was annoyed she hadn’t thought to cancel.

But Therese wasn’t jumping up to leave or anything. And Carol wasn’t moving her toward the door either. Then she found herself saying, “you know, I should probably get a coffee…and a juice, and several gallons of water before I go and face my therapist. Want to come with me?”

She didn’t need verbal confirmation because Therese’s smile said it all, and Carol grinned back. She took off her glasses to exchange for nearly identical sunglasses on the way out the door and Therese protested, “no, don’t take off the glasses! They’re very…sexy librarian.”

Carol laughed, “oh really? Well, these are essentially the same but now they’re hungover librarian.” 

The wine bag was heavy and Carol knew as much, but she was used to it, so she made Therese hand it over as the stepped out onto the sidewalk. There was a place on Washington that Carol wanted to stop at and she took a ginger shot and got a green juice. Therese’s face was something between disgust and impressed, and she asked “there’s not even fruit in there, how can you drink that?” It was strange, but Carol liked the bitterness. The place Carol wanted coffee from was only a couple blocks from Therese’s apartment, and on the way Therese asked about her trip to Detroit - her friend works for a wine bar and a distillery there, and every time Carol visits, her friend tries to convince her to move there. 

“Would you?” Therese asked.

“No.” Carol hadn’t realized the answer was so obvious until right now. “I know it’s cheap, and I’d like to, you know, _own_ a place someday instead of renting forever, but I feel like the ‘on the up-and-up’ attitude is a little disingenuous there.” 

When they entered the coffee shop the barista said, “hey Carol,” and Carol was almost mortified. She was a creature of habit and routine and this place was often apart of that. She didn’t need her routine - despite Abby’s constant teasing of her being an “anal retentive Virgo,” (Carol loathed astrology) - but she never had a reason to break her routine either. 

Carol paid for both her and Therese’s coffees and walked with her to her apartment, not wanting to miss a second of Therese explaining to her what it is she was working on at her studio. Therese loved Kandinsky and Helen Frankenthaler but assured Carol her paintings weren’t derivative. But Carol knew that because Therese had given her the postcards that were prints of her works. Unable to bite her tongue fast enough, Carol told Therese that she’d love to see her work in person sometime. Luckily Therese didn’t seem to think it was an outlandish idea, because she replied with, “absolutely! You’ll have to come by my studio.”

Once they went their separate ways, Carol strolled herself down Putnam to get to Washington and along the way passed the Clinton Street Station. It was so obviously closer to her apartment than the one she’d gotten off at with Therese. But the flutter in her stomach when she remembered Therese grabbing her forearm to get her attention (as if she didn’t have it already) before telling her something funny prevented Carol from feeling embarrassed by her obvious blunder. 

Her therapist asked her how she was when she entered the room and Carol said, “great,” and her therapist nearly collapsed, because apparently, in the two plus years Carol had been going to her, she’d never once deviated from her automatic response of “fine.” Until now.


	4. Chapter 4

Therese’s favorite thing about working with Carol was everything. Literally everything. She couldn’t think of a single part of work that wasn’t made better by just being around Carol. It wasn’t as if she spent all that much time with her, either. She tried, but it wasn’t always possible. But she watched her a lot. Too much, perhaps. Enough for it to be noticeable, hopefully not by Carol, though. But watching somebody be so effortlessly great at what they do was intoxicating. 

After seeing her on Tuesday, Therese practiced opening bottles without using a surface, just like Carol requested. She practiced with the three bottles from Carol and then her roommates thought it was so funny that they bought her three more. By now she had it down. 

It was very apparent that Carol was _busy_ when she was at work. And probably when she wasn’t at work, too. Therese always came in after Carol had been there - seemingly for hours - and left before Carol looked even close to leaving. On Thursday Carol was the closing manager. She set her laptop up at the bar and worked on something that involved a spreadsheet while the servers and bussers cleaned up around her. Therese printed out her shift report and handed Carol her receipts. She said, “thank you, Therese,” without looking up from her computer (and the joy Therese felt from seeing the stickers she had made adorning Carol’s water bottle and laptop was bordering unreasonable).

Eventually Gen turned in her receipts, followed by Dannie, Fred, and Richard. Carol counted money, typed some numbers on her keyboard, and with complete disinterest said, “will anyone else be making money tonight or were you all just relying on Therese?” 

To be fair, Therese had one particularly lucrative table the spent hundreds and tipped half their bill. She hadn’t really had to work hard to get them to spend much either. They’d come in with the intention. Luckily for her coworkers, they pooled their tips so her wealth would be spread among the lot. But Therese could help but feel proud of herself for earning such a comment from Carol.

It seemed at first to be a comment Carol was making matter-of-factly, something she’d say had it been anyone else in her position. But when Therese caught her eye - eyes that had been peering over the computer screen, watching her reset tables - Carol winked, smiled, and went back to her work.

——

After an uneventful Sunday, Therese didn’t see Carol again until the following Thursday. She’d tried on Sunday to find excuses to stay behind for a little while, to talk to Carol - maybe if she was lucky figure out a way to take the train back with her again - but Carol was swamped with work, even having Jack stay late with her to go over pricing and menu changes. Working Mondays without Carol managing was a drag. And Therese spent Tuesday and Wednesday in the studio, unable to get Carol off her mind. Thursday didn’t come soon enough. 

One of Therese’s first tables of the night were two couples, young, thirty-somethings, and extremely nice. They gave her the greatest gift she could’ve asked for when one of the two men said, “hey, is Carol Aird here by any chance?”

It was a little deja-vu of two weeks prior, but this time she came prepared. “She might be.” She absolutely was. Probably sitting directly below them in her office. “What’s your name?”

The man laughed lightly. “Oh, she doesn’t know us. But my wife just read a little article about her in _Food & Wine_ a couple days ago, coincidentally we had reservations here tonight and thought we’d say hi. She’s a bit of a fan now.”

He pointed to his wife and she grinned and shrugged in a way people specifically did during awkward interactions with strangers. But still, they were nice. Therese could at least try. She would, because any excuse, really. 

Carol wasn’t in her office, but Therese found her in the kitchen, arguing with the expediator about something. Waiting patiently off to the side, she used the time to look at Carol. Her demeanor was so different here, in the restaurant, at work, than the one Therese was privy to on a few, far too infrequent, occasions. She was forceful and it was sexy. It could’ve been her short, black, floral dress - silky and drapey and cinched at the waist - or it could’ve been her set jaw and crossed arms as the expeditor pointed his finger and raised his voice at her. 

Suddenly, she fixed her stare onto Therese. “Yes? Therese. What? Hi. Do you need something?”

Each word was punctuated by irritation. Carol was annoyed and Therese was embarrassed, but not enough to forget why she’d come to find her in the first place. 

“I have a table asking for you.”

No part of Carol’s expression changed. It was possible she was further frustrated hearing this. There was no way to tell. Therese hoped she hadn’t done the wrong thing.

“Who? You tell me Cynthia again and I’m burning down the restaurant.” One of the cooks shouted “I’ll help!” from a distance. There was a hint of a smile on Carol’s lips now. 

“Nobody you know. They read about you and wanted to say hi? I told them I wasn’t sure if you were here.”

Things had gone easier than anticipated, because Carol just cocked her head and added an, “okay, let’s go,” then motioned for Therese to walk her to the table. 

Therese looked on for a bit while Carol met her fan club. This was another side of Carol. It wasn’t the same as work Carol and wasn’t quite friend ( _friend?_ No, maybe not yet) Carol. This Carol had a well practiced facade. She shook hands firmly and laughed politely. Convincingly, but politely. The woman who had been the reason for summoning her in the first place had the pleasure of Carol putting a hand on the back of her chair so she could lean forward, just slightly, while facing her. It made Therese jealous because it was blatantly flirtatious. And it made her realize that she wanted to be the one Carol flirted with. 

Therese had other tables to see to, unable to stay and watch this performance come to fruition. But Carol beckoned her over when she finally left. She pulled four wine glasses from a shelf and slotted them between Therese’s fingers for her to hold. 

For the sake of clarification, Therese asked, “these are for table forty-two?”

Now there was a smugness to Carol. And that was new, too. “Right. Because _that’s_ how you sell a 320 dollar bottle of Chablis.”

Her hair flung over her shoulder when she turned on her heel to glide away to the white wine fridge and Therese watched her walk every step until she was out of sight. 

——

Halfway to her apartment, at the last stop before leaving Manhattan, Therese realized she’d left her studio bag at the restaurant. If she was lucky, someone would still be there to let her come grab it. And because it was Sunday, that someone should’ve been Carol. She deboarded at Fulton Street and stood at the other side of the platform to wait for the opposite-bound train, and texted Carol. 

_Hey, are you still at work? I left my bag there._

The reply came instantly. She was still at work and would she like Carol to take her bag to her tonight or tomorrow? It was an offer that made Therese giddy, but she was already on her way back - on her way to Carol - and waiting longer to see her wasn’t very enticing. 

Carol was the only person left other than the dishwashers when Therese arrived back at the restaurant. She was perched at her usual spot - the end of the bar - where she sat when it got late enough for her to not want to leave the dining room unattended, even with all of the doors locked. Maybe it was a feeling of responsibility, but Therese got the impression that Carol was afraid of being alone. 

Her studio bag had been brought up from the lockers already, sitting prettily on the stool next to Carol as she worked. 

“Still waiting for the dishwashers?” Therese didn’t want to leave yet.

“You bet.” 

Exhaustion clouded Carol’s words. It was her fifth day in a row, after all. Five days of run-of-the-mill 9-to-5 jobs was tiring enough, but Carol worked far beyond those hours. Probably putting in 60 hour work weeks and then some, by Therese’s estimate. 

“Can I wait with you?” Not that she was going to wait for an answer, already sliding into the seat beside Carol.

“Oh, Therese, I’ll probably be here another 20 or 30 minutes. You don’t have to.” Therese knew she didn’t have to so she chose not to respond. 

She leaned her elbow on the bar and turned to Carol. “What are you working on right now?”

Carol sighed. “I might have to go to Chicago next month. To work with one of Chef’s friend’s somms on their wine list. So, I was looking into that, mostly.” She hesitated and then started again. “But…I got bored of that so I looked you up and found your website.”

The grin plastered on Therese’s face probably looked comical paired with her pinkened cheeks. “Oh, you did?”

“I did.” Carol wasn’t looking at her fully, but staring out the sides of her eyes. “You’re more talented than you let on.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

Carol agreed. “Of course I don’t. I didn’t have to tell you I looked at your website. I wouldn’t have bothered saying so if I didn’t think your work was incredible.”

Compliments of that degree coming from someone like Carol (then again, who was like Carol?) made Therese nearly float to the ceiling. It meant more than hearing it from other people who’d said similar things in the past. Carol wasn’t even an artist (though Therese wouldn’t bat an eyelash if she found out Carol had pieces hanging in the Whitney) but her words hit heavily.

When Therese didn’t say anything in return - she couldn’t even muster up a ‘thank you” - Carol turned her laptop for Therese to see. “I like this one a lot.” 

It was one of the first paintings Therese had sold. She remembered being asked the cost, and feeling on-the-spot because, because how much was reasonable? She didn’t want to be foolish, an give a price that made her sound pompous, but at the same time, there was money to be made in her art. There had to be. She told Carol this and Carol asked how much she wound up selling it for. 

“Fifteen hundred. It’s big; it’s 48 by 60, so - ”

Carol interrupted her. “You undervalued it.”

Therese knew that, but usually people outside of her realm thought the opposite. Hearing that Therese charged upwards of two or three thousand sometimes elicited scoffs and eye rolls. She’d expected similar from Carol, but by now she should’ve known better. Therese just smiled and said, “yeah, you know, after I named the price this girl I was dating at the time pulled me aside and said the exact same thing.”

That was a total lie. Absolute fucking bullshit. It was Dannie who told her that and they certainly were not dating. But Therese had come up with this, somehow, to let Carol know _things_ about her, but the expression on Carol’s face didn’t waver with Therese’s words. And she thought that maybe Carol…didn’t care. It wouldn’t be shocking if she didn’t - Carol was accomplished and independent and altogether fascinating compared to Therese - but it was disappointing. 

Carol just pursed her lips together. “Sounds like a wise woman. Maybe you shouldn’t have kicked her to the curb.”

And it was a lie upon lies. Maybe later down the line Therese would fess up and they’d laugh about it, but she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “well, _she_ broke up with _me._ ”

The reaction from Carol was the one Therese hadn’t realized she’d been hoping for. Carol sneered a bit, but playfully, closing her laptop. “I take it back. What a complete and utter moron she must’ve been.”

For seconds they just smiled at each other, neither saying a word. The silence was interrupted by one of the dishwashers coming out from the kitchen. Carol broke her gaze and called out, “all done, Colton?”

He said he and the other dishwasher were finished for the night, and going home, and Carol thanked them profusely and began packing up her things. Laptop, clothing, shoes, notebooks. She put on her sweatshirt - finally the last week of September brought a breeze in the nighttime - and turned to Therese. 

“I’m going to get a Lyft. Want to join?”

Did Therese want to join? How silly, because of course she did. If she’d been quick enough, she would've been the one to order the Lyft. But no. And when they slid into the back seat, maybe Therese was being crazy, but Carol leant so close to the middle that her pinky finger and left leg brushed against Therese’s right thigh. The entire ride. 

The first couple minutes, Carol tried to talk about Therese’s imaginary girlfriend, which she soon shut down. The topic moved to Carol and her real former one - the only one Therese new about, Cynthia. Carol said Cynthia and her had dated for about a year and a half, and that she only thought she was in love with her because she wanted a relationship like so many of her friends had had. Therese understood that feeling, for sure, of wanting something because everyone else was experiencing it. 

The driver dropped Therese off before Carol, and Carol said, “too bad you can’t work Wednesdays, because it definitely isn’t as fun without you.” And then sped away.

Therese could hardly breathe.

——

Dannie put Therese and Gen in a group message on Wednesday. Therese never worked Wednesdays and Gen had just been taken off the schedule for that day. Apparently, Carol had “gone crazy” and fired not just Kevin, the head bartender, but also Jaylen, the secondary one. Only the barback remained and Carol was forced to bartend for the night, given nobody else was up for the task. So Dannie suggested Gen and Therese come by and sit at the bar, because who knows? Therese was hesitant but Gen was all about it. 

They waltzed into their work together and only three or four minutes went by before a couple left them bar stools to take. Therese swore Carol’s eyes shined when she saw them sit down. Maybe, maybe not. She perched in front of them, and even was sweet to Genevieve when Gsn asked if they were bothering her. “Not at all! Did Dannie tell you I was bartending? Let’s get you two some food.”

Dishes were sent out complimentary and Carol started by first making them cocktails - some sort of Negroni with mezcal, because Carol knew Therese didn’t like gin - and then after poured a bottle of wine. She was adorable behind the bar, charming to say the least. She easily conquered the job of two bartenders and Therese reminded herself to ask Carol when and where she’d learned to bartend so well, because it was obvious she had for a long while before. By the end of the night, Genevieve was sufficiently drunk and slowly convincing Therese to stay out longer. 

Therese asked Carol for the bill and she slid over a receipt before quickly helping someone else. The only thing she charged Therese and Gen for was the bottle of wine. It was ridiculous, considering everything that they got that evening, but Carol insisted. Gen was in the restroom and Therese said, “thank you so much. I know Gen would say the same.”

She might, Therese thought, but she might also be a bitch about it. Like she was with most things that involved Carol. And Carol must’ve known this, because she smiled. “Well, Gen should thank you for joining her tonight. Otherwise she might be paying quite a bit extra.” There was a side eye of sorts. “Anyway, thanks for coming to see me. It made my night. Where are you off to next?”

If only Therese could go wherever Carol had in mind. Though she’d be stuck here much longer, no doubt. But where Gen planned to take Therese almost warranted an answer, but then Therese remembered who she was talking to and did some sugar coating. “Who knows? Gen just said West Village.”

Without missing a beat, Carol laughed back, “oh yeah? Well, have fun at Henrietta’s or Cubby Hole. I’m sure Gen will.” Her eyes rolled, too. Long and knowing.

And Therese didn’t quite know what she meant but she grinned and beared it, just like she was used to. She tried go out with Genevieve to other bars, continuing onward more, but Gen was so drunk and Therese just felt like getting her home. So she did, hailing a cab and helping Gen stumble into her pajamas and then into bed, shielding away attempts at coaxing her into bed and more.

——

Something had gone terribly wrong. Therese was folding linens and polishing silverware Thursday afternoon, just before service, when Dannie strode onto the scene. Carol had already been a table away, working on her laptop, but Dannie of course didn’t think anything of it. He draped his apron over a chair and began: “Therese, you went home _with Gen_?”

That was not quite the case. Gen had wanted Therese badly to come home with her, to have sex, but Therese thought she was far too drunk. And also, she wasn’t intrigued whatsoever. But this wasn’t something Gen considered. She might’ve felt she had been slighted. But Therese hadn’t talked to her enough to figure it out. But that wasn’t the issue. The issue was Carol, sitting ten feet away. “Dannie, what the fuck?” She nodded her head toward Carol. Therese hoped she wouldn’t think anything of it.

“Carol doesn’t care, right Carol?” That was Dannie’s defense.

Carol didn’t avert her gaze from whatever was so fascinating on her laptop. “No, Carol does not care.”

Dannie nodded and said something like “see?” But it didn’t convince Therese. Dannie noticed and went further. “I bet Carol lives for the gossip from her employees…” he laughed and Therese thought Carol might have tried to do the same.

She stared, but didn’t look the least bit captivated. “Oh yes, my life simply revolves around your daily dramas.” Carol sighed and packed up her things. “Unfortunately though, I must leave you both to this riveting discussion on your own. Have fun.” 

And she left for the basement. 

Maybe she didn’t care. Therese thought it was a viable option. But when Gen was whispering to Therese during a pre-shift meeting conducted by Harge, Carol snapped her fingers at them. She hissed, “don’t make me babysit you, because I will if I have to.”

Therese was mortified. 

When she went to drop her cash and receipts at the end of the night, Carol was in her office, not upstairs. She grabbed them without a word but before Therese left she stopped her. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. It was unprofessional. I apologized to Gen already. Anyway, it won’t happen again.”

The apology was nice, but Therese would prefer it happen again. Just to make Carol care.

——

Dannie had said that she _“doesn’t care, right?”_ And of course Carol said she didn’t. Because if it were any other employee, she wouldn’t care about overhearing bits and pieces about their love lives. It happened all the time. But this was different. 

She thought Therese felt something for her like she did for Therese. Hadn’t she been obvious? Especially in the past week. Which meant things must’ve just been unreciprocated.

With her laptop tucked in the crease of her bent elbow, she moved hastily through the basement toward her office. Someone had said hi to her, but she couldn’t focus. It was all white noise. The door shut too hard and she turned the lock on the handle. Her eyes hurt and burned from holding onto excess liquid and she tried hard to not let it spill over, tilted her gaze to the ceiling, drawing in a shaky breath. 

It was no use. The knot in and Carol’s throat was pulled taut and broke, causing her to choke on her exhale. Her eyelids squeezed together and allowed a couple tears to fall. There was nothing in her office to use as tissue (and _god_ , she couldn’t leave now) so she tried her best to dab them away with her fingers. The ones on her cheeks she wiped in a particularly delicate manner, because if her eye makeup was going to be compromised, she couldn’t lose her face makeup too. Still, she felt like a child pawing at her cheeks.

Her whole body shuttered as she calmed down. But she wasn’t calm - not really - she was just at work and had to get her shit together. She didn’t plan to, but she’d snap at Gen and Therese, and then have to apologize. And maybe tomorrow she’d make Abby go for a run with her and pry out the information of which she was too upset to talk about.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I broke this up into two separate chapters. The next few chapters are going to be just as slow moving and have just as little happening. So, sorry! But, not really. 
> 
> Enjooooyyyy. And tell me how you like it so far.

Carol was never the best at hiding her emotions. Actually, yes she was. But not with Abby. With others, years of swallowing her feelings had made her an expert in stoicism. 

Abby had been excited for their run Friday morning; she did a heel click when Carol met her at Grand Army Plaza. After months of oppressive heat, they’d finally feel the first tease of fall. The cooling of the weather was the only thing Carol looked forward to about the season, though Abby was on board for the lot of it. 

But Carol could feel herself not meeting Abby’s enthusiasm - and surely Abby could tell right away. Carol barely spoke, allowing Abby to dictate the conversation, up until well after they’d finished their five miles and sat back in Abby’s condo, Carol at the kitchen table and Abby flitting about around her, readying supplies for Rindy’s nanny. 

Eventually, she sat down at the table next to Carol. Carol was resting her chin on her hand, looking down, tracing the grooves in the wood with a fingertip. 

“Okay. What’s up with you? You practically raced me today and I can tell when you’re upset. More than usual.”

She tried to push it away, shaking her head a bit and turning slightly away from Abby, but why hide things from Abby when she’d just pry them out of her anyway? It was futile - a delay of the inevitable.

Carol said, “it’s nothing,” but that was accompanied by a sniffle and the tears that she’d kept at bay all morning finally finding their way into her eyes, daring to fall. 

The suddenness startled even Abby, who scooted her seat closer and snaked a hand up Carol’s back and onto her shoulder. “Whoa. Hey. Carol. What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Carol cracked, and in a voice so small, muttered, “I’m just sick of being alone.”

It all felt so stupid. She’d gotten her hopes up about somebody that didn’t have any interest. It wasn’t new for Carol; she’d been down this road before. Quite a few times. She told Abby as much, adding the beginnings to the conversation she’d overheard between Dannie and Therese. About Genevieve. 

“Well, let me just put this out there,” Abby started. “I was already absolutely _in love_ with Alexandra before we got together. You remember. And I slept around - like, _all the way around_ \- until we started dating. I know it isn’t your style, Carol, but people have very casual sex sometimes. If Therese slept with Genevieve, it doesn’t mean she isn’t interested in you.”

It wasn’t a bad point, but Carol felt a sour taste in her mouth at the notion of Therese in Gen’s bed. She felt like a bratty teenager thinking it, but it just _wasn’t fair_. 

Abby continued, “plus, I’ve seen you down about girls in the past, but not like this. Not so quickly. You really like her, don’t just give up when you haven’t even tried.”

If only it were that easy for Carol. Rejection always hit her too hard. Even pseudo-rejection. This did feel far more devastating than usual, though. 

She chalked it up to her recent birthday. Carol had always admired her friend Jessica for her ability - her _desire_ \- to be alone. To live largely unattached. Sure, she dated here and there. All the time, in fact, but she thrived on her independence. She would for the rest of her life, probably. It was who she was. But that simply was not Carol. She’d woken up this morning alone, and it killed her. It killed her to not get to wake up next to somebody looking back at her. She wanted it for herself so badly. Carol’s apartment was always so quiet and why couldn’t she be so privileged as to find someone to share her life with? A life she worked pretty fucking hard to build.

After a moment of crying, and Abby so sweetly putting up with her, Carol pinched the bridge of her nose and did her best to blink away the rest. 

“I’m sorry I’m like this,” Carol said, followed by a, shallow, self-deprecating laugh.

“Oh, hush. I’m sorry you’re feeling this way, hun. I hate seeing you so sad.” Abby’s face suddenly sparked. “I’ve got an idea. Instead of going into the office, what if I play hooky, we eat one of those edibles you still have in your fridge, I help you clean the bar, and we order sushi?”

Carol liked this plan. She _did_ have to go into work three hours early to organize behind the bar and take inventory. And it would be a hell of a lot better if she had Abby to help her. And if the were stoned. She must’ve been grinning now because Abby was raising her eyebrows and asked, “Sugarfish? Bento boxes and a bunch of other shit?”

With that, Carol stood up and finished her water before heading back to her apartment to shower and change. 

——

Even higher than kites, Carol and Abby were getting a lot done. It was just after 2pm and they’d managed to take enough inventory for Carol to set up her laptop do the ordering when they breaked for lunch. 

Carol had met Abby at the Clinton Street station an hour after she’d left her house. They split an edible and rode the train to the restaurant and about right when they arrived inside, Abby looked toward Carol, removing her sunglasses, and grinned. “Oh my god, I am so stoned right now. Alexandra _cannot_ know about this.” 

The feeling was obviously mutual, because all Carol could did in response was laugh far too hard. It took a minute for them to get into the groove of inventory, but once they did, they were laser-focused. When she and Harge fired the bartenders on Wednesday, she knew this would be a consequence. But it had to be done immediately. Harge would go through security camera footage to get the proof of what they knew had happened, but until then, all they could say to everyone else was that Kevin and Jaylen “no longer worked with us.” 

At least she did a _fabulous_ job bartending. The servers would be grateful when they saw their next paycheck because with Carol not taking tips, obviously, two less people took money from the pool. Her mind went to Therese walking up to the bar the other night. Even though she’d come with Gen, Carol was ridiculously pleased. Sure, she was jealous, but she didn’t think she’d be seeing Therese at all that night, and then, there she was. And she looked incredible. Her presence was more than welcome even if it had made Carol nervous. 

Her heart pounded just thinking about Therese, but it came with a less wonderful tug this time. She must’ve zoned out, because Abby poked at her side. 

“Hey, where’d you go?”

Carol just chewed at the inside of her lip. Abby’s mouth shifted to one side as she thought about something. “Can I ask you a question.”

“What?” Surely it was a question Carol wouldn’t enjoy.

“Why not just ask her? Like, ask her to go to dinner with you? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Thinking about The Worst That Could Happen was Carol’s real full time job. The worst that could happen? Well, “she could say no.”

Abby wasn’t moved. “Right. _And?_ ”

“And I’d be embarrassed. And sad.” Carol said this but Abby required more. Carol was already sad. And embarrassment only lasted so long. “And she could tell Harge and get me fired.”

“Nope. She wouldn’t do that and you know it.”

That was true. “No, she wouldn’t.”

“So, then…what’s the problem?” Abby knew the question didn’t have a real answer.

“The problem is,” Carol started, “that I already pay somebody - a lot of money, mind you - to tell me these things. I only pay you to be my best friend.”

Abby threw her head back and laughed. “I _wish_ you paid me, because let me tell you, it is _work._ ” 

Carol had successfully pivoted their discussion and now their food had finally arrived. How many lifetimes had passed since they’d ordered it? They spread their loot out at the bar and everything tasted fucking sensational. Both concluded that they needed to get high and eat Sugarfish more often.

Carol declared, “this is the best fucking thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

A voice from behind made them both jump a thousand feet into the air. 

“Uh oh, did I walk in on something salacious?” 

Carol spun around, hand on chest, shaken and catching her breath. “Therese, _Jesus,_ you scared us.”

Abby’s eyes widened when she heard mention of Therese. Carol met her with a look to try and indicate she had no clue what she was doing here. Speaking of… “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Therese began. She was wearing the black skinny jeans she needed for work, but when she took her jacket off it was apparent she wasn’t totally dressed for work just yet. Unless someone had changed the uniform from patterned button downs to short grey tank tops with obviously nothing underneath. Abby’s snicker ripped Carol’s eyes back to the conversation. “I was already in Manhattan at my studio and then I remembered you said you’d be here to do inventory. I thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted help.”

It was confusing Carol now. She could still hear Abby’s low, stifled laugh, likely one brought about by Carol’s earlier dramatics now juxtaposed by the scene playing out in front of her. She wasn’t sure just what to say. “Oh. Um, Therese this is Abby, Abby - Therese.” 

They shook hands and when Therese pulled back, she started to dig through her bag. “Oh! I have something for you!” And out came more stickers. These three were each different succulents. “I noticed all of your plants in your apartment a few weeks ago and made these this morning.”

They were cute and stunning and completely right, just like Therese. And Abby and Carol ogled them, mouths dropped like they had discovered the eighth wonder of the world and, yes, these were spectacular but wow were they being over-the-top. 

When they looked away from the stickers and back to Therese, lips still agape, Therese studied them intently before asking in a whisper, “wait, are you guys high right now?”

Carol’s knee-jerk reaction was a resounding, “ _no!_ ” But next to her Abby was nodding enthusiastically, leaving no room for question. Carol was mortified, but Abby forged ahead. 

“That doesn’t mean these aren’t the best things ever. Do you work on commission?” 

Therese opened her mouth, but words weren’t coming out right away, giving Carol a chance to interject. “Therese, you don’t have to make stickers for her if you don’t want to. And did you really come here to help with this?” She motioned to the entirety of the bar. “It’s a tedious job.” 

Therese shrugged back, “well, yeah. But I didn’t know you’d already recruited help, so I can - ”

Swiftly and decisively, Abby cut her off. “Nope, help’s leaving. I really do need to run to my office for at least an hour tonight. Therese, nice meeting you. Eat the rest of my Sugarfish, please.”

It felt like the ground was slipping out from under Carol as Abby threw her bag over her shoulder to head out. Turning away from Therese - who’d fast taken over Abby’s place, inspecting her leftovers - Carol’s eyes widened and she mouthed “ _what the fuck?_ ” through gritted teeth. Abby’s head bent down to Carol’s hear, and she whispered quietly, “I’ve never come to work early unless I wanted _something_ out of it.” Seconds later, she was gone. 

Carol turned back toward Therese. She looked so adorable reading the underside of the lid of the bento box, following the instructions and dipping a piece of hamachi in soy sauce accordingly. She also looked great in that top. After Therese finished her second piece of sushi, Carol figured she’d been staring wordlessly long enough. 

“Therese, seriously, these stickers are so wonderful. This was too sweet of you.” 

Finally Therese looked over to her, and she smiled, and Carol smiled back, annoyed with herself as she felt the skin above her cheekbones get warm. Therese was _nice._ It was an unusual quality for Carol to encounter. Even Carol didn’t think that she herself was nice. Definitely not friendly, maybe kind - in the polite way - at best. She was nice when she knew if someone already had a good impression of her before she met them - like guests that would come into the restaurant asking for her every so often. Or people interviewing her for those godforsaken articles that Chef and the owners pushed her to do, because it would be good for the restaurant. That was strategic, though. But in her day-to-day, nice wasn’t a standout quality of Carol’s. Hence her _exceptional_ luck with the company she kept romantically. It was humiliating to think about what assholes she’d been with in the past. She wondered what it was like to date someone like Therese - or simply, Therese - considering what a lovely person she was outside of a relationship.

Carol just watched as Therese finished Abby’s food, not much needing to be said in the comfortable silence. And then Therese asked what needed to be done next, insisting that she help Carol despite Carol’s efforts to let her just hang out and keep her company. With most of the liquor bottles removed from there places after taking inventory, all that was really left was cleaning. As they worked, Therese talked. She talked a lot, which Carol found downright charming. She went on about meeting with a friend of a friend who was a gallery owner yesterday, and she was pretty sure they’d be hanging some of her work soon, then about how she didn’t know the part of Brooklyn they lived in very well, and that she missed living in Astoria. She paused to smell the cleaning product they were using.

“Is this just castile soap?”

Carol had been so wrapped up in listening that she nearly forgot questions required answers. “It is.” Therese cocked her head, urging Carol to go on. “I just don’t trust all the chemicals in cleaning products.”

The answer seemed satisfactory enough, and Therese continued, both cleaning and chatting. “Is this your playlist that’s playing?” She pointed upward, using the universal indicator for loudspeakers. 

Hesitant for a moment, Carol was unsure of where this was going. “Who else’s would it be? Harge?”

It made Therese giggle before she said, “I figured. I just wanted to know what song this is. I like it.”

Oh. “Oh, it’s by SZA. It’s called ‘Anything.’”

Therese wiped down the inside glass of the bar fridge doors and said, “oh, so you’re just, like, a really great person that cares about the environment and has really cool taste in music and is low-key famous in the New York restaurant industry?”

Carol wasn’t sure how to respond. She was still a little high, if she was being completely honest, and didn’t want to misconstrue any of Therese’s words. She managed a weak smile back. “What?”

Now Therese was looking at her, no longer fixated on the smudges that had been long gone on the glass. “Nothing. You’re just very interesting, you do realize that?” And Carol still couldn’t come up with the proper thing to say in return. If she said 'no,' Therese would go on further and Carol would find herself more flustered. And saying 'yes,' well, that would just be a lie. 

Therese saved her, saying instead, “when I went home with Gen the other night, all I did was put her in her bed and go home. I’m not interested in her.”

And now the room was upside down and Carol couldn’t move or breathe or speak lest she fall directly from the floor onto the ceiling. Therese was giving her the reassurance she had so longed for - the reassurance for which she’d given up any hope of existing - and was she saying what Carol thought she was saying? But it didn’t matter, because a most unwelcome voice sucked the moment up into a black hole. 

“I see you managed to rope in some backup, Carol! Therese, nice of you to help out.” And that was Harge’s greeting and farewell as he bounded to the back of the restaurant to hide in his office, leaving Carol to just peel her eyes away from the wall and back to Therese all on her own. But once she looked over, Therese was already back to work. 

They finished cleaning in relative silence, and afterwards Carol told Therese she’d better start getting ready for her shift tonight, and then retreated to her office. 

Carol wanted to think Abby had been right about Therese, and if Therese’s behavior was any indication, she might’ve been. But it seemed too good to be true. Too easy. But then she considered that it was only easy if she continued to do nothing. And missed whatever opportunity she’d been granted. 

At their pre-shift meeting, all fifteen or so employees stood around together listening to Harge droll on about menu changes, VIP guests, and then reminded everyone to help out at the bar when possible, because they were still short staffed. 

Standing close by Carol, Gen muttered under her breath, “maybe don’t fire people with no plan next time…”

And Carol had just about fucking had it. “Say that one more time Gen, just so everyone can hear.”

She wasn’t shy when put on the spot - plus, she’d been friends with both of the bartenders - and boasted, “I just meant, it’s going to be hard this weekend without a full bar staffed. It seems weird to fire people so abruptly.”

Carol couldn’t help her eyes from rolling and she crossed her arms and caught Harge’s eyes, he shook his head and they shared a knowing look. It wasn’t worth it. And they moved on with the night.

It was hard for Carol not to watch Therese as they worked, to hope that she’d catch her staring back at her. Usually Therese wasn’t shy about coming to Carol when she needed help with something, but tonight she seemed to approach Harge and Jack and even Jeanette. Carol wasn’t sure whether to feel dejected or if Therese was avoiding her because Carol hadn’t responded to her confession earlier. 

The night both dragged on and flew by. Carol didn’t want Therese to just…leave. Not without saying something. Harge and Jeanette left, leaving Carol to close down the restaurant. She sat back in her office, working on ordering, and servers came by one-by-one to drop off their receipts and reports. When Gen came in, she didn’t say a word and just waited for Carol to tell her she was free to go and to “have a good night.” She took her shit attitude with her and stomped out. 

Finally Therese came. Carol felt tension creep up her spine when Therese sat in the vacant chair and waited as Carol looked over her receipts. She looked over the numbers and counted the cash twice, but nothing had registered in her brain. But doing it a third time would seem odd, so she just said, “thanks Therese, if you’re done with your side work, you can go.”

And Therese took her time, waiting a second - or two, or three - before standing and creeping over to the door. 

And then, “actually, Therese, wait.”

Her head whipped back toward Carol, expectantly. 

Carol realized she had no plan. “Never mind, you can go.” 

There was definite disappoint covering Therese’s face and she turned back to the door, again, and somehow that was what Carol needed.

“Wait, come back.”

Therese turned around, gave an awkward laugh, and Carol rolled her chair to get a view of outside her office - _just in case_ \- and Therese seemed to take the hint and closed the door.

She reclaimed her chair and looked at Carol. “What’s up?”

There was truly no backing out now. Doing so would be far, far more strange than even this going the worst of ways. Her breathing sounded heavy in the small space, so she decided stopping altogether was better. She bit her bottom lip, then let it go, and gazed at the ceiling for a moment. If another second passed, the silence would become unsettling. 

“Do you want to get dinner with me? Sometime?”

It wasn’t as if she could actually _hear_ the words coming out as she said them - her heart was pounding too hard behind her ears for that to be a possibility - but she felt her lips move, and the air pass through her tongue and her teeth. And there was Therese’s face, the raised eyebrows and slightest of grins.

“ _Oh!_ Like, dinner, as in, a date?” Now Therese really smiled. 

Carol couldn’t speak. She just slowly nodded her head up and down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun little fact: the song mentioned in this chapter is where the title gets its name. It's the best song and so very fitting, I think. (Originally it was going to be an old, deep-cut Rihanna song but I don’t like things to be meta, and we all know what Rihanna was doing last summer, so...)


	6. Chapter 6

The feeling that Carol was mad or upset with her was one Therese just couldn’t shake. She felt it in the snap of her fingers and even in her apology, wary and given out of obligation. But the only thing that Therese could’ve done to upset Carol, the only thing that had been different, was hang out with Gen. Carol hadn’t seemed to mind when Therese and Gen came into the restaurant and visited Carol while she was bartending, but it was Dannie’s implication about what happened after the fact where things had gone downhill.

If that were the case, Therese was oddly satisfied. 

But she certainly didn’t want Carol to continue to be upset with her. Or upset in general. She liked Carol - both as a person she worked with and _a lot._

She thought about the stickers covering Carol’s water bottle and laptop. Other than the one’s she’d made her, of course, it was a hodgepodge of wine labels and political things and brand logos. Therese wanted to make her more. If only to allow herself the feeling of smugness when she saw Carol first look stunned and then peel them off and stick them to her belongings. 

When she’d been inside Carol’s apartment, she tried to drink it all in, not knowing when (if) she’d be back. It was small - but plenty for one person. Carol had the kind of furniture that Therese wanted, the kind that wasn’t brand new because buying new was cheaper than moving everything. It wasn’t IKEA and made of particle board. It was acquired over time and had seen great care. Therese noticed all of the plants, too. She’d been stricken by how well-maintained they were, considering Therese struggled to keep just a couple alive, forget thriving. Yes, the plants would make for lovely stickers. Maybe colored pencil or pastel. 

She sketched and drew and colored for hours after getting home from work, and woke up early the next morning to convince her studio-mate to let her, once again, use his printer. Begging him was worth it, because everything turned out better than expected.

Now there was extra time - going home would be a waste but work wasn’t for another couple hours. But today was Friday, the day Carol had mentioned - truly with no ulterior motive - that she’d have to come to work early and figure out what needed to be done behind the bar. Therese thanked herself and serendipity for choosing this particular day to have something to kind-of-apologize for to Carol. She considered changing her shirt before heading to the restaurant - or at least putting on the bra she’d brought with her - but decided against it; the button down she wore to work wasn’t the most comfortable, and if she was totally honest with herself she didn’t _need_ to wear a bra. 

Therese reaped the benefits of her work when she laid her gift for Carol out on the bar and watched as Carol and some unexpected guest of hers raved. It was earnest but it was also…a lot. And when they looked back up at Therese she realized why. 

“Are you guys high right now?”

Carol was awful at hiding it. And her friend didn’t even try. It was cute watching Carol squirm, bloodshot eyes attempting to look anywhere but at Therese. When Carol’s friend left, Therese was gifted her leftover sushi and she felt Carol’s eyes boring into her as she ate. She tried to think of something to say while she ate - about yesterday or Wednesday or both or neither, but nothing came out. Not until they got to working on the bar, anyway.

She and Carol cleaned and cleaned and sure enough, Therese found herself unable to _shut the fuck up._ It was a nervous habit, talking too much. And, god, she was probably annoying, but here she was, bragging about her art potentially being hung in a gallery and droning on about how she had yet to really go anywhere in the area of Brooklyn they both lived. 

Her one-woman show was halted when Therese asked, “is this just Castile soap?” It was. Because of course Carol didn’t like using chemicals. Carol recycled and was never without a reusable bag and carried her water bottle like rosary. Not that Therese didn’t do these things, but it seemed apart of Carol’s character, second nature, while Therese had to remind herself.

Then Therese asked about the song playing, and couldn’t help revealing her intimidation. “Oh, so you’re just, like, a really great person that cares about the environment and has really cool taste in music and is low-key famous in the New York restaurant industry?” 

But Carol didn’t _get it._ And Therese couldn’t catch a break. She sighed when Carol questioned her, holding back an eye-roll - because Carol wasn’t _being_ modest, it wasn’t performative, she _was_ modest. “Nothing. You’re just very interesting, you do realize that?”

It wasn’t a question that asked for an answer, because facts were facts. This wasn’t up for debate. And Therese might as well say what she’d wanted to make known this entire time, since everything else didn’t seem to be enough. “When I went home with Gen the other night, all I did was put her in her bed and go home. I’m not interested in her.”

Carol blinked up at her, but no words left her mouth. She just stared and Therese began to worry she’d been too presumptuous in her thinking. So she didn’t say anymore outright. And maybe it was a good thing they were interrupted by Harge. It gave Therese an out, a way to forget anything had happened. 

During their pre-shift meeting, Gen said something out-of-line and it embarrassed Therese. She was either embarrassed for Gen or for herself, for being friends with Gen, maybe both. Therese was sure Carol was going to bite back, but instead she watched as Carol and Harge looked at each other, silently communicating something before moving on. 

The night sped by. They were busy, and every time Therese needed help, as much as she wanted to go to Carol like she usually would, she found herself approaching Harge or Jeanette. With a little extra searching, she probably could’ve tracked down Carol, but she was unsettled about earlier, about how their conversation (if one person talking and the other doing next-to-nothing could qualify as one) had ended. It hadn’t even really ended, it just stopped in its tracks. 

She’d have to come to Carol at the end of the night though, to check out with her before she left. There wasn’t a way to avoid it. She dragged her feet while finishing her side work, insuring that her coworkers all wrapped up and left before she did. If she _maybe, possibly_ could actually talk to Carol when she went to her office, think of something to say to make things less awkward, she didn’t want to be interrupted again. 

Most evenings Therese spun around a bit in the chair in Carol’s office while she waited for her, made small talk she was certain Carol didn’t pay attention to, occasionally picking up the fidget spinner that sat on her desk and twirling that around too. But she was far too uncomfortable. And Carol took longer than usual. But she told Therese she could leave, and without anything more to say Therese only paused - just for a second, before making her way toward the door.

And then she was stopped. 

“Never mind, you can go.” Carol said, and Therese started to crawl out of the office. But then, “wait, come back.”

Carol gave a look like she wanted the door closed, so Therese shut it before taking her spot again. This could be for something as little as Carol wanting to share a Lyft back to Brooklyn like last week, but Therese thought - hoped - it was something else. Because _that_ wouldn’t cause such vacillation. Carol was looking anywhere but at Therese, until she finally met her eyes when she said, “do you want to get dinner with me? Sometime?”

If it was the type of dinner that Therese wanted to assume it was, Carol’s forwardness was flooring. But it was exactly what Therese wanted. Before agreeing (though she would regardless of circumstance), Therese had to ask, “like, dinner, as in, a date?” The words felt scrambled as they practically fell past her lips. She hadn’t thought of what she’d say - and how mortifying it would be - if Carol said, no, not like that.

But she didn’t. She didn’t say anything. She just nodded her head, her gaze not faltering. How was Carol so good at this? Therese couldn’t remember if someone had truly ever asked her on a date - like, specifically on a _date_. Every date she’d ever been on she was made aware of only well after the fact. Therese would _hang out_ with someone long and consistently enough that the pattern would be silently agreed upon as such. Or she’d just have sex with the same person over and over again until it was assumed that this, _this_ must be dating. 

“Yes. Of course I do.”

And something a little unexpected graced Carol’s features. Was she surprised? Therese didn’t quite know. But Carol sure sounded as much. “Really?” She was smiling now.

“Yes, really.” How could anyone turn down Carol? “When?”

It seemed like Carol had thought about this. “Monday night?”

Yes, Monday night. It was so soon. Only Saturday and Sunday stood in the way. But, oh, “well, I usually have to work on Mondays.”

Carol’s head tilted to the side and her eyes narrowed, studying, her hand came up and she waved it in a circle around her face. Then it clicked for Therese, and she blushed when Carol responded, “I make the schedule.” 

“Right.”

Carol was left waiting again. “So…Monday?”

“Yes, definitely.”

Therese was just grinning and staring, not believing what exactly she had just agreed to. And Carol was back to slowly nodding her head again, focused on Therese. “Great. Well, that’s that I guess.” And she shrugged, but it came with a smile. 

Therese watched as Carol pulled up the schedule on her laptop, clicking here and there, until a minute passed and she turned back to Therese, looking guilty and amused. “You can leave now.”

But where would Therese even go? Logically, back to her apartment. Regardless of where she went, she’d still be somewhere, waiting for Monday night. If only she could just sleep for two days straight. Though she knew it was time to leave Carol to herself, always swimming in work. As she left, she heard, “wait, one more thing.”

At this point it was almost farcical how many times she’d been released from this office only to be dragged back in. 

She turned back to Carol.

“One more thing - and if this is a problem for you, I get it, and we can nix our plans altogether - but you _cannot_ tell anyone we work with about this.”

Therese hadn’t planned to - she figured as much - but, _god,_ would keeping this to herself hurt just a bit. 

“Carol, that’s not a problem. I won’t say a word.” 

Before sliding out the door, she did a little zipper and lock motion over her mouth. 

——

The next morning Therese sat awake in her bed replaying the previous night over, and over, and _over_ again. She’d awoken to a text from Carol and gotten too excited before opening it.

_Hey, please don’t forget about the wine training today at 2pm. I promised to fire anyone that doesn’t show up without prior approval, and I’d really prefer not to do that to you before Monday._

Still, she’d specifically texted Therese, even after she’d sent out a reminder to the staff via their scheduling app. So, that was something. Therese would count it as something. 

She arrived at work, thinking she’d be the earliest one, but Gen, Dannie, and Fred had beaten her. It was unusual for Gen to be early - she was a screenwriter (or rather she was working on it) and often got caught up with her writing partner until the last minute. Today, though, she said she couldn’t be late. She knew Carol was already not happy with her for her comment the other day and didn’t want to push it. 

Everyone waited at the bar and Therese watched Carol. Even in the simplest of clothes - right now high waisted skinny jeans a tucked in black t-shirt - she was put together. She moved with intent and ease as she set up rows of wine glasses with Jack. Therese couldn’t hear them, but they interacted like they were close friends. They must’ve been, since he was sort of Carol’s protégé. She’d probably gag at the term, but Jack had told Therese last week that Carol had encouraged him to move from serving to being her assistant sommelier years ago. If she ever left this restaurant, she wanted him to have her job. But Jack didn’t think he was ready. 

Therese thought that, yes, Carol was hard on people, but when they were resilient she did things for them like she’d done with Jack.

Her train of thought was derailed by Dannie. “Um, hey, Therese.” He snapped in front of her face. “You are _blatantly_ checking Carol out right now.”

Gen laughed but added, “I mean, I get it.” 

If only Therese could tell them what was really on her mind. And that was Monday. And dreaming about what they would do and what she would wear (what would she wear?) and what Carol would look like and the idea of spending all evening with just Carol, the fact that Carol wanted to spend all evening with Therese, sent her brain into tailspins. 

But now it was 2:00pm exactly and Therese would have to find some way to pay attention to the words Carol was saying and not only the lips forming them. Impossible as it seemed, she managed. It was good that she did, too, because Carol’s explanations for why she had taken certain bottles off the list and replaced them with this or that were fascinating. She made them blind taste wines, and attempt to guess what they were (Therese wasn’t the best but she certainly wasn’t the worst at it, and Carol didn’t seem _displeased_ ). Nobody complained, because everyone like Carol when she let them drink - even just a little - before work. 

Sunday night found Therese in a supremely good mood. Of course, she couldn’t say why, no matter her friends’ pestering, but that wasn’t important. Keeping things a secret could be fun.

Before leaving Carol’s office at the end of the night, Carol looked at her, eyes narrowed and said, “does 7:30 work?”

Therese’s lips curled into a grin. “Sounds good.”

“Excellent. Where we’re going is closer to your apartment, so I’ll meet you at your place and we’ll go from there.”

She _planned_ things. Therese soared. “Where are we going?”

Then Carol scoffed, and turned her body back to her laptop, resuming typing. “As if I’m telling you. You’ll see tomorrow.” Carol was smiling now and Therese knew it was because of her. “Goodnight, Therese.”

——

Having roommates had its perks. Therese had left her apartment in Queens that she once shared with a friend from art school after their landlord had raised the rent too high for either to afford. With the additional expense of her studio space, Therese was forced to find another situation with roommates - really all she had wanted for years was to live alone. But Monday night, having Lauren - stretched out on the couch, looking at her phone - would come in handy. 

“Lauren, can you help me figure out something to wear?”

She didn’t look up, and put a piece of popcorn in her mouth before saying, “totally. What for?”

“I’m going on this date tonight…”

With that, her attention peaked, and she slipped her phone onto the coffee table. “Hell yeah. Where are you going?”

Therein lay the problem. “I wasn’t informed.”

Lauren looked amused, eyebrows wiggling as she continued throwing popcorn into her mouth, watching Therese like a movie. “So it’s like a _real_ date. Not like ‘let’s hang out and go drinking.’ Who’s it with? Guy or girl?”

“Girl.” As juvenile a word, girl, felt to describe Carol, Therese wouldn’t go out of her way to make specifications when she was about to receive help. “She’s the beverage director at my work.”

“Show me.” Lauren meant on Instagram, so Therese plopped down next to her and they leaned over her phone. Therese knew Carol didn’t really have many pictures of herself on her Instagram, so she just googled her name. 

“Oh, I know her. Well, not really. She’s friends with one of the somms at my work and comes in sometimes.” Lauren worked as a maître d’ at a high-end restaurant in Soho. “I like her. She’s, like, very…polite. But yeah, she’s hot. Nice work.”

That was Carol, all right. Therese made Lauren promise not to say anything, because if for some godforsaken reason the knowledge made its way back to Carol and Therese’s coworkers, it might not be good. Therese didn’t know what exactly would happen, but Carol obviously didn’t want anyone finding out. 

Therese didn’t feel like wearing jeans because it felt like that was all she ever wore around Carol, _black skinny jeans_. But it wasn’t hot enough to justify shorts. Most of her dresses were black, and black felt too formal. She could wear a skirt, but she wanted long sleeves to go with it and didn’t have anything she liked. Finally fed up with Therese’s pickiness, Lauren had “just the thing.”

“Okay, so it’s a dress _but_ it’s navy and white microcheck and it has buttons the entire way down the front - ” she talked as she rifled through her closet. “And it’s fitted at the waist. I think it’s from Reformation or something. It’s _just_ too short for me and a little tight but you’re a waif. It’ll be perfect.”

It was perfect. And Therese had brown lace-up booties that she’d wanted to wear, and this dress matched. Now Lauren was invested, and sat in Therese’s room while Therese sat on her floor in front of the mirror doing her makeup. She peered over from the bed and just tossed out words of approval every time a new eyeshadow or lip color came up.

“So is this like a hoping-for-another-date thing or do you just want to get fucked?”

There hadn’t been time to think about that. Therese had used all of her energy thinking about the date happening _tonight_ that what she wanted to come of it hadn’t crossed her mind. And then who knew what Carol wanted? Either outcome would be okay, Therese decided, but she also wanted more than to just have sex with Carol. At the very, _very_ least she wanted to be friends with her. And if she slept with her once she was sure she’d want to again. And if she went on this date - _when_ she went on this date (she needed to hurry, it was almost 7:30) - then she would for sure want to go on a second one. And there was her answer.

But Therese said, “both?”

And Lauren said, “cool.”

And Carol texted her saying she was outside.

——

“If you two continue to act like this, I’m banning you from my apartment for a week.”

A stream of whiny defense came from Abby and David, who had perched themselves on Carol’s bed while she got ready. David was Tessie’s husband - sent as a surrogate for her because she was working late. Carol hadn’t asked her friends to be here, yet, here they were. 

“Act like what?” Abby sipped the wine she’d helped herself to upon arrival. 

“Stop talking about my outfit and my body like I’m not here.”

David argued, “but it’s all good stuff. Your legs do look great in that skirt. Tess and I talk about it every time you wear it.”

It had been a struggle all day for Carol to calm down. Abby had called earlier to ask if she was excited and Carol had given an even-toned response. But she was beyond excited, though saying that out loud, _to someone else_ \- for someone else to have on record - made her excitement too concrete, and that wouldn’t help her nerves. While she was anxious about the night ahead, she just wanted to see Therese. That was who this was all about, after all, all the tension in Carol’s chest and the dryness in her throat. 

At a little after 7:00, Carol had to leave. She had told Therese last night that she’d walk to her place and they could go from there. She told Abby and David to please put their glasses in the sink - not the dishwasher - and to let themselves out whenever. With half her body into her building’s hallway, almost escaped, Abby made a joke about making her bed look nice for them, and Carol just gave her the middle finger as she shut the door behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get a lot of "suggesting" from you guys that I write you some sexy stuff. And listen, I love that about you all. I love that you're like that. But I'm sorry to say that it's not here. But at least it's cute? Hopefully the absence doesn't cause a boycott.
> 
> And to clarify: I don’t write that! And I’m sorry. You’ll have a lot of between-the-lines reading to do. Sorrrrryyyz.

There was a mirror in the hallway of Therese’s building, right beside the front door, that Therese used to look at herself one more time before walking outside. Not that she’d run back upstairs and change her clothes or fix her makeup. She just wanted to know what Carol would see when she saw her. 

Even though Therese thought, _knew_ even, that she looked good, when she saw Carol, leaning against the post at the bottom of the stoop, staring at her phone and sending a text, nothing made sense. It felt like charity, honestly. Like when sick teenagers made-a-wish to go to prom with Taylor Swift or a Jonas Brother. 

Carol glanced up quickly and smiled. “Hey sorry, one second,” and looked back down to finish her text. 

It gave Therese time to admire her. She’d been around Carol mostly at work, and had seen her wear black dresses that, though cute and questionably professional (borderline, at best), might not have been Carol’s first choice of style. Now Carol wore a short suede skirt that fit almost snug around her hips with a black long sleeved top that had a v-neck so deep it passed her bra, which seemed to be an outfit in its own right. It’d be nice to see what the entirety of that looked like. 

But now Carol was slipping her phone back into her bag, and she apologized before her eyes dragged themselves back up to Therese’s. 

She said, “you look _great_.” Before Therese could say anything in return - a similar, but understated complement, a thank you perhaps - Carol continued. “Are you ready?”

Therese just nodded in response. She’d say real words soon, but didn’t trust herself just yet. 

“Good. Okay, we’re going to walk a bit. Is that okay?”

It was. Therese’s boots gave her a few inches of height, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She’d traversed miles across the city in them. They walked south down Therese’s block. The sun was nearly set and Therese was so wrapped up in the way Carol’s eyes matched the twilight that she nearly missed her question.

“We have options, so I’m going to need your input. Both Mediterranean - and not like ‘Middle Eastern but with a more palatable name for Americans.’ One is Italian Mediterranean and the other is…Israeli, I think.”

Making a choice like this was not a task Therese was keen on. “Honestly, either. I’m just starving.”

Carol stopped walking for a moment to catch Therese’s eyes before rolling her own and then resuming their pace. “Seriously? Okay. Flip a coin then?” She went for her purse but Therese beat her to it, finding a dime in her bag. “Can you at least assign the sides?”

That Therese supposed she could do. “Heads Italian, tails Israeli.”

Carol flipped the coin so high that Therese was sure she wouldn’t catch it, but she did, of course, and flipped it onto the back of her hand. Before revealing it she asked, “you sure you don’t want to pick? No going back now.”

Therese just shook her head and smiled. She lifted Carol’s hand off of her other for her. It was tails.

Carol just laughed and said, “perfect. But hang on.” Therese wasn’t sure what she meant - they kept walking - until Carol brought out her phone, searching through it for a moment before holding it to her ear. She was looking at Therese still, and Therese furrowed her brows. She watched as Carol’s eyes danced while she waited for whoever she called to answer. 

Finally, “hi, I’d like to cancel a reservation.” 

_Oh._ But really, should Therese have expected differently? 

“Carol Aird…Yes, that’s it…no, just cancel it. Thank you.”

Therese crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “You made two reservations.”

Carol answered as if it were something necessary, something everyone did all the time. “Well, yes. I wanted options.”

When she said ‘ _I_ wanted options,’ Therese knew it meant she wanted Therese to have options. 

They walked and Carol apologized again for being on her phone when Therese met her outside earlier - she’d been on the phone with her mom on the walk over and was texting her dates that worked for her parents to come to visit. After the holidays, because Carol would, as always, be stuck working Christmas Eve and New Years Eve. Harge and Jeanette would have to, as well, but it didn’t matter as much to them because they had their own families, families that lived nearby. Therese asked if Carol was close to her parents.

“Yes. I talk to my mom maybe every other day. My dad a little less, just because we don’t have as much to talk about.”

How adult children associated with their parents fascinated Therese, considering she had only the outsider’s perspective. Dannie was absurdly close to his, which worked out nicely for Therese - his parents’ house was where she’d spent most holidays the past six years. On the other end of the spectrum, Gen barely spoke to hers. Therese didn’t know the details of it all, but apparently they didn’t see eye-to-eye. The thought of Carol talking to her mom all the time was cute. 

The restaurant they walked to was in Fort Greene. In all of Therese’s six years living in the city, she was fairly certain she’d never been to Fort Greene. Carol laughed. She looked exasperated. 

“Therese, you live right there!”

She pointed to the direction they’d come from and then nodded to the building they stood in front of, opening the door for Therese.

“We’re here.”

Therese watched as Carol checked in with the hostess, who got the manager, who knew Carol - not well, Therese thought, but enough. He said it was nice to see her again, it’d been a minute since she’d come in, and asked if she wanted to sit inside or outside, in the back patio. Carol looked to Therese, saw her indecisive expression - one that strained from being put on the spot - and sighed. It wasn’t mean, it was amused.

Carol turned back to the manager and said, “I don’t think she cares, so let’s do outside. Or whatever is easiest for you.”

It was busy, especially for a Monday night, but the manager told Carol he’d find a place outside for them. He bumbled around on the computer monitor with the hostess and then motioned for Carol and Therese to follow him. 

The inside of the restaurant was beautiful, but the outside was exquisite. Obviously Carol had known this. Therese wondered if the other place Carol had optioned for dinner was as remarkable as this - no doubt it was. When they were at the table, Carol took the chair and let Therese sit on the banquette. 

Left alone at last - save for the completely filled seats around them - Therese smiled at Carol. 

“This is fucking beautiful.”

Carol’s grin remained shy, but grew. “Yeah? Well, maybe venture beyond a half-mile radius of your apartment while you live here. Pretty much every place in Fort Greene is like this.”

Now Therese really wanted to know the other place Carol had made reservations at, but Carol wouldn’t tell her. Hopefully Carol would take Therese another time. She wandered her eyes over the space around them and when they made their way back she found Carol staring at her with intent, forearms resting on the table between them. 

“You’re very observant, aren’t you?”

Therese blushed. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re very quiet. Well, _sometimes_. Like you're somewhere else, but that’s not a bad thing. At all. And you made those stickers of my plants after being at my apartment for all of five minutes.”

Unsure of whether to feel proud or embarrassed, Therese asked, “did you like them?”

The question made Carol laugh. “ _Therese_. What even? No, I hated them. And that’s why I ignored all of my better judgement and asked you to go to dinner with me.” Her head cocked to the side and now her words were gentle. “I love them. Do you do that often? Make things like that for people?”

The real answer was no, never. She never had. But Therese wondered if revealing that would make her seem too forward. Such a simple question only warranted so much thought for an answer, though, and Therese knew her time was up. 

“No, I never have.”

Carol clicked her tongue and covered her eyes. “What are you trying to do to me?” 

The truth had been working out thus far, so Therese went with that. “Make you like me.”

That intent stare was back on Therese. “Well…mission accomplished.”

And Therese was stunned into silence, but it didn’t matter anyway because there was a server at their table now. He was talking and Carol might have been listening, she looked like she was, but Therese couldn’t be bothered to listen. Except when Carol talked. She asked him about something on the menu in front of them - apparently having found a second to glance down at it - and the server explained. 

“So that’s just a shot of aquavit - which is a Scandinavian liquor similar to vodka, it has a bit of a dill flavor,” Carol nodded her head when he said this. She knew what that was. “And it comes with a pickled beet. As a chaser.”

Carol blinked, she looked like she was trying to figure something out. She gazed at Therese and then back to the server. “But why?”

“Our bar manager just got back from Norway.”

Carol’s laugh was sudden and loud and infectious and Therese found herself laughing along, even their server did, until Carol replied, “that sounds _vile_. Bring us two.”

The server turned and left, not hearing Therese say, “Carol. No.”

“Therese. Yes.”

There wasn’t a point in arguing, and Therese just shook her head. She _knew_ Carol was going to do that, as soon as she started asking their server questions. She watched as Carol just smirked and looked up and to the side. Feigning guilt. 

Therese wondered how she got here, it was like a dream. She remembered Dannie (or was it Gen? Or both of them?) telling her that Carol was unapproachable. She was, that was true, but if you moved closer slow enough, with care and caution, Carol didn’t bite. She was just skeptical at first, and Therese didn’t know why, but she wanted to figure it out. 

Carol said they should _actually_ look at the menu, and figure it out so they could order when their server came back and not have to worry about it. She told Therese she’d be willing to share a bunch of stuff, but she didn’t eat meat (Therese didn’t know that, but she should’ve guessed) though she did eat fish sometimes, but if Therese wanted something of that variety, then by all means. Therese didn’t, she wanted to have whatever Carol was having. Their server came back, and they traded him their order for their shots. Therese gave Carol a pained look.

“Why are you making me do this?”

Carol laughed. “To see the look on your face.”

It was a wonderfully honest answer and it made Therese laugh too. Then Carol added, “plus, I need this.”

Cocking her head to the side, Therese asked, “why’s that?”

When Carol replied bluntly, without a hint of hesitation, “because I’m nervous,” Therese’s first instinct was to not believe her, because she couldn’t reconcile the admission with a person who fit the description. Nobody who was truly nervous had the courage to say so. But on the other hand, Carol hadn’t given her reason to suspect she was anything but honest. 

And over the course of dinner, Carol didn’t have any trouble leaving other questions unanswered, or with simplistic responses that made Therese realize, only later, that she was the one doing the answering. If Carol hadn’t been so receptive, and so interested, Therese would’ve felt nearly the same having dinner with herself. It wasn’t until the bottom of her second drink that Carol began talking at length - relatively, anyway - about herself. Therese had finished telling Carol about Dannie’s mom’s constant insistence that Therese take with her anything that she so much as mentioned liking at the McElroy house. 

“I’ve come home with a lamp, a picture _frame_ \- she literally removed the picture and gave it to me - a bag of pretzels…”

Therese was proud because she was making Carol laugh. She had been for much of the night. “My mom sounds exactly like Dannie’s, except she forgets I have to fly to see her, so she winds up giving things to my sister who, just…doesn’t need them.”

This sparked a discussion about Carol’s family, because Therese had already spent enough time talking about a family that wasn’t her own (but was the closest thing - and Carol hadn’t realized just how close her and Dannie were). Carol’s sister was only one year older - she lived in Clyde Hill, which was just outside of Seattle. She was an accountant, “ _for Microsoft_ ” and her husband was a computer engineer and they both made “a ridiculous amount of money, not that I’m jealous or anything.”

She made a face and Therese laughed. “Yes, but isn’t your job slightly less mind-numbing?”

“Possibly, but it doesn’t quite expedite the payments of my student loans for a degree I didn’t finish.” Even if she was actually frustrated, Carol still winked at Therese, maybe to assure her she hadn’t stepped into a topic that was something of a sore subject. For that, Therese was grateful. Because she wanted to ask more.

“What did you not get a degree in?”

Carol finished her drink and slid it to the side of the table - the last piece of their meal to be collected. 

“Psychology. I dropped out of Columbia after two years. For the best, no doubt, because it’s two years less of student loans. But I started working at a restaurant downtown my sophomore year and knew I wanted to do that instead.”

She kept talking about her sister - her sister had two kids - and Therese asked if she was jealous of _that_ too and was met with an emphatic, “no!” And then a slight correction, “I mean, I love my niece and nephew, and my best friend Abby’s daughter, but from a distance.” As she talked Therese noticed Carol angled her chair out slightly and looked around a lot. 

“You hate sitting on that chair and not this banquette, don’t you.”

It took a second of consideration until Carol relented. “Yes. Is it that obvious?”

She was blushing a little and Therese had to laugh. “You’ve done really well up until now.”

Carol kept looking around. “Well, I also want our check. Unless you’re opposed, there’s this wine bar in Boerum Hill that has the best desserts. And a great wine list. But it’s up to you, we can also call - ”

As if Therese wanted to “call it a night,” which was where she knew the end of Carol’s sentence was heading, so she cut her off quickly. “That sounds great.”

Therese was rewarded with the widest smile in return. It only lasted a second - if she’d blinked she would’ve missed it - before pulling back to its default polite grin. Always so reserved. “ _She’s very…polite_ ,” Therese’s roommate had said earlier, and Therese wondered if Lauren thought that Carol was unapproachable as well. 

When the check came, Carol didn’t bother to look before sliding her card into the server’s hands and looking at Therese in mock judgment as she tried to offer to pay (“that’s not how this works”). The walk to Boerum Hill was quiet because Carol kept them on residential streets as much as possible, and they looked in the windows of brownstones with their lights on at the elaborate interiors, evaluating if whoever lived there was worthy of owning such a distinctive piece of property. 

They reached their destination and Therese could tell that Carol had put thought into this, too, if the inside of the bar was any indication to what the back patio held. 

Someone called to Carol and began making his way toward them. Carol gave Therese an apologetic look. She was embarrassed, it seemed. But Therese figured Carol would know someone here. It was her industry, after all. She listened to the conversation that ensued. Carol hugged the person - Justin, as Therese found out through brief introduction - and they chatted for a minute. He asked where she’d been lately, how work was, how her trip to San Francisco was, and if she was going to Abby’s wine dinner next month. 

“Are you really asking me if I’m going to my absolute best friend in the entire world’s wine dinner that I’ve been going to for literally a decade?”

Justin put his hands up in defense. “Hey, I never know with you.” He then turned to Therese and pointed at Carol. “Loose cannon, this one.”

She looked around the room incredulously. “In what fucking world am I a _loose cannon_?”

He shoved her teasingly and Therese took everything in. She felt special being privy to interactions like these. 

“I’m only kidding. Are you bringing Jack to Abby’s again? He’s doing good, isn’t he?” 

Carol smiled, because maybe a compliment to Jack was an attest to herself (not that she would admit it, but Jack would certainly say so) and looked at Therese and then back to Justin, possibly as a way to include her in the conversation. “Oh, no. Jack gets his own invite this year. Abby likes him now. He doesn’t need me to bring him.”

Justin nodded in reply and wrapped up their aside, telling Carol to go sit anywhere. He asked if she was here for dessert too, and she gave him a look that spoke for itself. 

Carol nodded her head for Therese to follow her to the back patio, lit with only string lights and candles and lanterns. There were only a couple open tables, but one had a bench on one side and the chair on the other side was stolen away to a nearby table. A tight fit, but a good excuse to sit next to Carol. When Justin came out with the wine list, he asked if Carol wanted him to get an extra chair. 

She just stared. And said nothing. Therese almost laughed when Justin finally got it. 

“Oh, right, no. Yeah, that’s cool.”

They looked at the wine list together and Carol made some jokes to Justin that Therese didn’t understand.

“You like Rosé, right?”

Silence passed and then Therese realized she was the recipient of the question, meeting both Carol and Justin’s waiting eyes.

“Oh, _me_?” 

“Yes, _you_.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Justin pulled the wine list from Carol. He was going to bring them something not on it, but he knew Carol would like. Therese couldn’t help feeling chosen. Chosen to be let in to Carol’s world, her circle, the one she kept so tight and so out-of-bounds. Eyes were watching her and Therese knew she was doing it again, looking around while Carol just stared. 

“I like watching you.” Carol was leaning on her elbow, turned to Therese. 

“Why?” Maybe Carol wouldn’t see her face turn red with only the dim lighting.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I just do.”

Justin returned, with glasses and a bottle and an ice bucket and someone else who put multiple desserts in front of them. He told Carol he’d just bring her a tiny bit of everything, because she always agonized so much over having to choose. Justin told Therese that Carol loved dessert and she'd happily skip dinner for favor of it, which was bashfully confirmed by Carol. That wasn't surprising. Therese had once watched Carol bite into a cookie at work, her face turning to disgust and said, “what _is_ this? Is this gluten-free? Gross.” She proceeded to eat two more. 

Carol wasn’t allowed to see the bottle Justin was opening. He wanted to see if she liked it first. He poured her a taste and she did that thing that Therese always found so pretentious - she swirled it, and then smelled it - before tasting it she pulled it away and said, “oh, I know what this is.” 

“You haven’t even tried it!” The protestations came from Justin first, and he egged in Therese to join. 

But she knew already. Down to the exact bottle. She told Therese to try it and make sure she liked it. She did, but Therese wondered if she didn’t, would she ever say otherwise? And Justin called Carol a smug asshole but asked when she was going to come work for them. 

Carol scoffed. “When you can afford me.”

When they were left alone they talked about nothing in particular - plenty of serious conversation had happened over dinner. Carol was horrified Therese had never seen the original _Susperia_ , but Carol had never seen _The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari_ , so they were even. And Therese now had excuses to spend time with Carol again - it was October after all. An LCD Soundsystem song came on as their bottle was reaching the bottom and Therese remembered Dannie telling her he’d once saw Carol at an LCD Soundsystem concert. She told Carol this and Carol looked hurt.

“I know. I saw him too. And I knew he saw me and didn’t say hi. I wasn’t going to because I don’t know if it’s fun having your manager come up to you when you’re with your friends, but I see him out a lot and he never says anything to me.” 

When Carol stopped talking, she turned her head - a second ago fixed on the table - to look at Therese. The silence was comfortable. It was a little sad and didn’t need to be filled. Therese just gazed back and bathed in the moment. 

Unintentionally, Therese whispered, “you’re so beautiful.” Maybe it was the wine that made her say it, but it was probably just Carol.

Carol’s eyes blinked and her brows furrowed, as if trying to grasp the meaning of each word that had been said. And then she leaned over and kissed Therese. Either to thank her or to shut her up, but regardless it was over too soon. 

“You’re so sweet.” 

Often Therese had rejected being called _sweet._ It was a running theme throughout her life. Growing up and into adulthood, she’d never been able to shake it. She took it to mean she was a pushover, or naive. But when Carol called her sweet, it felt like it was her favorite thing about Therese. 

“You know you are too, right?”

Carol just shook her head, unbelieving. 

Soon after, they got the check, Carol paid, and she suggested they get an Lyft. They’d take it to Therese’s and she’d just walk from there. They sat mostly in silence the entire ride, with the driver talking here and there and Carol answering out of obligation but still kindly, but Therese smirked at the annoyance she wore on her face. Outside of Therese’s building, the streets were quieter than when they’d found themselves there hours ago. Therese swore she saw regret reflected in Carol’s eyes too, an apology that the night was over. 

“Thank you for hanging out with me tonight, Therese. I really had the best time.”

Carol’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, like it was waiting - for affirmation or a similar sentiment. Therese could hardly believe the shyness that covered Carol’s face, it shouldn’t fit someone like her. But it did. 

“Carol, thank _you_ for…everything, really. Tonight was so much fun.”

Instead of replying, Carol reached out her hand to lightly pull the space between Therese’s neck and shoulder in order to kiss her more easily. Her lips were as soft as earlier, but this time more focused and the moment lasted far longer. Long enough for Therese to lose her breath. Carol found Therese's waist as she pulled back and her fingers grazed back and forth absentmindedly. Therese heard herself asking, “do you want to come inside?”

She knew the answer already by Carol’s apologetic smile. “I do, but I can’t. I have to be up early tomorrow. Work meeting.”

Therese wanted to beg, to tell Carol that it didn’t matter - she’d make sure she woke up on time - but it wouldn’t make a difference. So she just kissed Carol one more time and squeezed her hand. 

“Goodnight, Carol.”

She felt Carol watching her as she walked up the stairs and into her front door. 

——

Carol so wanted to follow Therese inside her apartment. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been thinking about undressing Therese and kissing far more than just her lips all night - or all week - or the entire almost-month she’d known her. But Carol really did have to be up earlier than usual tomorrow. More important, Carol knew herself, and she knew if she slept with Therese tonight and nothing wound up coming of it after - if it had been all Therese wanted and they didn’t see each other (outside of work) again - then Carol would be heartbroken. She knew Therese was attracted to her but she wanted her to feel more than that. She thought she might, especially after tonight, but she needed to be sure. 

Therese had let Carol kiss her, and she kissed her back, and that was purely transcendent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song by LCD Soundsystem I imagine playing is called "I Can Change." 
> 
> You know I love your comments. I'm like Tinkerbell.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go, everyone. 
> 
> Next chapter will come not as quickly because I’m going back to work on my other story. But I do know the next chapter will come from Carol’s POV.
> 
> Also is it possible that the last chapter garnered over 1000 hits? Or are 20 of you reading this thing like 50 times each? Because goddamn, that’s awesome either way.

Therese didn’t think to text her. Or at least, she didn’t know _when_ to text. She’d leave at least one day, of course. She guessed. But if she texted Carol on Wednesday, they’d see each other on Thursday, and she didn’t know what to say still. Thank you? I had a great time? Already mentioned, both of them. She wanted to see Carol again. She would on Thursday for sure, because they worked at the same place. 

Tuesday went by, and so did Wednesday, and then Therese felt like she needed to say _something_ on Thursday - before work - or else it could be strange when they saw each other. She could tread lightly. She knew how to do that. 

_Are you doing anything tomorrow before work?_

That seemed okay. If Carol was free, Therese would suggest they get lunch and then she’d show Carol her studio space - namely, the paintings and prints she kept there. Some were about to leave the studio for a gallery in Chelsea. Carol had mentioned wanting to come by, so really, it was her idea. 

Her phone vibrated. 

_I never have plans before work. What’s up?_

Hopefully Carol was okay with making plans before work. 

_Want to hang out? Get lunch and then swing by my studio?_

Carol’s reply was immediate.

_Absolutely._

——

Thursday evening went by agonizingly slow. But Carol was there and looking at Therese in some type of way when she walked in the door at 4pm. When she sped by Therese folding linens, Carol drummed her fingertips across Therese’s shoulder so lightly and quickly that a breeze would’ve felt more forceful. 

The night was boring when Therese didn’t find Carol to occupy her gaze. She tried to find excuses to drift over to Carol, like when a table asked her what oil they used for frying. Anyone would’ve known (Therese should’ve had the answer, too), but anyone included Carol. 

She found her in the kitchen, reading the ingredients on a bottle of Diet Coke. Without looking up, she muttered, “sunflower oil.”

Therese didn’t leave and Carol was forced to lift her eyes. “Anything else?”

“No.” Therese smiled. “That’s it.”

Carol went back to the bottle of soda. “Okay.”

It was strange because the last time Therese had seen Carol, she was tracing along the curve of Therese’s waist. And now here they were at work, like that hadn’t happened. It was for the best, of course, but Therese wondered if Carol had just as difficult of a time not getting completely lost in thoughts of her like she did with Carol.

Eventually the night had to end, and Therese did her usual routine of polishing silverware, printing receipts, and counting cash before descending down the stairs to the basement, back into Carol’s office. She sat in her regular seat and Carol took _so long_ comparing the numbers on the bills Therese gave her to her final receipt. It felt like ages that they sat in silence.

“Will you close the door?” Carol asked abruptly and Therese did without hesitation - this wasn’t new. Carol had kept Therese and others a few minutes late for scheduling or to give notes (good or bad) on their service or wine sales every so often. But when Therese turned around, Carol was _right there._ Standing, having moved seamlessly from her desk chair to the space behind Therese without notice. So close that less than a step separated their bodies.

Nothing was said and Carol put her hand on Therese’s waist and closed the gap between them to catch her lips with her own. They were soft and gentle - just like the other night - but this time warmer than Therese remembered. Carol’s hand ran itself behind Therese, down her back and then over the beltline of her jeans. 

Carol stepped back with a sigh and the beginnings of a smile. “Sorry. I’ve been thinking about that all day.” 

It was unbelievable that Carol apologized for things like this. For things like kissing Therese in a way that made her dizzy. She hoped Carol felt just as light-headed when it happened, not wanting to be alone in all of this.

Then Therese had a panicked thought, and Carol must have read it on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Carol, aren’t there security cameras everywhere?”

“Oh.” She laughed. “Not in my office. Directly outside of it, yes. Hence the closing of the door. Did you honestly think I hadn’t thought that through?”

Therese felt a tinge of condescension but Carol moved on and asked her what time tomorrow. They decided on meeting at noon and before Therese left, Carol grabbed her hand to swing her back around and kiss her one more time. 

“Goodnight, Therese.”

——

They met on the platform of the Clinton Street Station. Carol had suggested the Franklin stop, but Therese thought Clinton was closer, and Carol had met Therese at her apartment last time. It was only fair. 

Not knowing how hungry Carol would be, Therese hadn’t picked a place in advance, sure that Carol would have an opinion. 

She did, sort of. “Well, I’m starving. And bordering on grumpy because I’ve usually eaten by now. But I waited. For you.”

Therese rolled her eyes. “How big of you. Thank you, Carol.”

Since Carol wanted “real food,” they chose a place in the East Village that both of them frequented, and noted that it had been there “forever.” As long as Carol had lived in New York, at least. Therese found certain things about Carol funny, because they were predictable behaviors for anyone else, but surprising for Carol. She wanted a salad but wanted Therese to get a sandwich - not a salad - so she could eat her fries. Therese told her, “just get your own,” and she pouted, “no, it’s fine.” So Therese got the sandwich. It was what she wanted, but it was also what Carol wanted, and suddenly that became far more important.

With a little fight, Therese managed to pay. They’d spent lunch talking about what they’d been up to the past few days. Carol wasn’t interested in elaborating about herself, which was par for the course, and brushed everything off as, “just work stuff,” but prodded Therese for details about how her time was spent. It was hard to explain what she did in the studio all day - and the process of converting paintings to prints wasn’t highly entertaining. Luckily any confusion she might’ve created would be cleared up when they visited her space that afternoon.

Tompkins Square Park was always a jumble of college students, seemingly homeless crust punks, preschoolers, and dogs - and today when they cut through was no exception. Carol liked dogs, Therese learned, and she stopped to pet three. On Avenue B, she pointed to a tattoo shop on the other side of the street and asked Therese, “remember my friend Jessica?”

Therese remembered Carol’s friends from the day she was at her apartment, but not their names. “Which one was she?”

“Jessica is black and looks too cool to spend time with me. Tessie is white and looks like she’s still a virgin.”

Now Therese remembered. She should’ve assumed. The two women had been distinctly different, to put it mildly.

“Anyway, she’s one of the main artists at that tattoo shop.”

The name was familiar to Therese, and it was for a reason other than Carol. “Isn’t that where Gen gets her tattoos?”

Carol nodded. “Jessica is Genevieve’s - and a bunch of her friends’ - primary tattoo artist.”

“Oh, so you knew Gen before she worked with you?”

First Carol sighed, and Therese worried that she had asked the wrong thing. But Carol went on, “just a little, very peripherally. Only through Jessica. They aren’t friends, she’s just been tattooing her and her friends for years.”

There was a break in the conversation when crossing Houston required their attention. Therese almost asked if their was a reason Carol didn’t like Gen, or why Gen would call her unfriendly, but Carol might have sensed the oncoming inquiry and continued. “They’re fine, but very cliquey. I find her group of friends disingenuous - caricatures of themselves. They’re also allergic to taking their day-jobs seriously - which, by extension, affects people like me - which is funny, considering Gen is quite good at hers when she bothers to try.”

Carol changed the subject abruptly, announcing she’d gone on enough, and asked where exactly was their final destination. Nearly there, Therese just scolded Carol for her impatience. To be fair, it was in an odd, lightly-trafficked part of the Lower East Side, below Canal and by the river. 

A wave of nerves hit Therese when they arrived. The majority of her work was inside, just past the door and up a flight of stairs. She rarely showed anyone her art if they weren’t apart of the small community she’d created (or maybe found) over the years. Never someone like Carol. 

But here she was, with Carol, in this messy, unattractive converted loft space, leading Carol past two other people who worked here - Therese didn’t know them well enough to warrant anything beyond a simple greeting - to a corner by the window where she kept her canvases, some hung and some resting against the wall on the floor. She had one on a table, a painting she was attempting to make a print of yesterday. 

Carol wasn’t saying much. Nothing at all, in fact. Her eyes scanned and scrutinized as Therese explained when certain pieces were made, how the acrylic paints gave texture to one, which was why she’d made a similar one using oils. She was trying to give substance - validation - to her work, but Carol’s eyes when she turned to face Therese stopped her from saying more.

“These are so beautiful. And extremely involved. Therese, you’re really talented.”

Therese couldn’t escape the flush that covered her face. She tried to smile. “Thank you. I mean, you’ve seen them before though, online - ”

“They’re even more spectacular in person.”

There was more looking and more, less frantic, explaining. Carol took her time and Therese could tell she wasn’t doing it to appease her. There wasn’t anything patronizing about Carol’s questions, which was refreshing, given most people who claimed to appreciate art often fancied themselves experts, as well. Therese thought maybe Carol faced similar difficulties working with wine and people who liked to drink it. 

On the way out, at the bottom of the stairs, Carol turned Therese toward her, grabbing her hips and then looping her arms around her neck. She kissed her slowly first, and then broke up a series of kisses with comments: “you’re incredible,” and “thank you for taking me here,” and “thank you for today.”

This became Carol guiding Therese against the wall while Carol’s hand wove itself into the hair behind her ear and her other hand rested on the wall, keeping her body from falling onto Therese’s completely, much to Therese’s dismay. Luckily that didn’t last long, and Carol’s elbow bent and she rested that on the wall instead, so Therese could grab her waist and pull her even closer. 

Carol pulled back, and breathed her words into Therese’s mouth. “I really don’t want to go to work.”

And, _god,_ if Therese didn’t feel the same. “Neither do I. But at least we’ll both be there, right?”

With her lips nearly touching Therese’s, Carol said, “yeah, but I can’t do _this_ at work,” and kissed her again. And again. “Let’s just quit and then we won’t have to go. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Therese didn’t doubt that for one second, but, “unfortunately _this_ doesn’t pay the bills.”

“Unfortunately is right.” But Carol smiled into her next kiss and her hand that had been tangled in Therese’s hair pushed back on Therese’s forehead and stayed at her hairline. “But I suppose we should get going. I know you’ll be early, but do you want to walk with me part of the way?”

They made their way toward Greenwich Village and Therese noticed that Carol often walked with her arms crossed. The first few times, she thought Carol might’ve just been cold, but now it seemed like a habit. They parted ways about halfway, and Therese killed time before her shift in a coffee shop nearby. Never had felt like there was too _much_ time in the hours before work.

——

There was nothing better than a text from Carol. 

Saturday morning, she’d asked: _Did I have the incredible foresight to schedule you as an opener tonight?_

Yes, Carol had. And Therese told her so. Carol followed up telling her that it wasn’t her, but Harge, that had to close tonight. It meant they’d both probably be leaving around the same time - somewhere in the ballpark of midnight. Carol asked if Therese wanted to get a drink after work. There was no question.

Like hell would Therese wear her work shirt to a bar - it wasn’t ugly by any means, actually it was sort of cute, but she wore it so often the sight alone disgusted her - so she packed a black t-shirt and black leather mules that Carol had once said she liked.

The day and then the night dragged on, and when Therese was wrapping up she finished her side work sloppily, but knew with Harge checking, she could get away with it. Carol had left fifteen minutes before, and texted her to meet her at the subway station. They’d go somewhere around their neighborhood, a safer choice than a bar nearby work. 

On the train they laughed about the night, and how they’d both rushed to leave, forgetting to do all kinds of things. The bar they went to was _crowded_ , but it was Saturday night, everywhere was crowded. Carol liked the place because the drinks were very strong and the seating was comfortable. And when they left the bar with their drinks, Therese understood. The seating was mostly couches, and Carol was confident enough (or maybe ambitious enough) to ask a couple to move to one side so they didn’t take up two tables. She let Therese sit first and then sat close, but left room. 

Things were oddly stiff at first - maybe it was the loud bar and needing to yell to be heard, but Therese felt it might be something else. Though after one drink conversing was far easier. Soon Carol got up to get their second round, and when she sat back down, she was all but sitting on top of Therese, their legs sinking into one another and shoulders bumping. Something made Carol laugh, and she leaned toward Therese and slipped her hand onto her knee. It stayed there. Over time, it squeezed lightly and drifted upward, though never too far. 

In lieu of a third, Carol asked Therese if she wanted to just make drinks at her apartment instead. She’d closed out their tab already, anyway. Plus, they were just two blocks away. And Carol really didn’t have to offer any further reasoning because Therese was practically begging her to lead the way. 

They walked quickly and said nothing. Carol opened the door to her building for Therese and they walked up the two flights of stairs in complete silence. The echo of their shoes hitting the steps was noise enough. The sound of Carol’s key inserting and turning and leaving the lock, allowing her to hold open the door for Therese, could probably be heard for miles, Therese thought. She walked in first, and watched and waited as Carol slid inside and closed the door, back to Therese. When she turned around, Therese didn’t move to let her further into her own apartment. 

Already a little drunk, Therese had never wanted another drink. That wasn’t what she wanted at all. She didn’t think Carol did either. 

Initiations had never been Therese’s thing, but Carol had been so good getting them to this point that Therese had to meet her halfway (though it wasn’t close to halfway anymore). And when Carol turned away from the door to face Therese and Therese didn’t move, she used the opportunity to pull Carol closer by the front of her shirt. And it was the right thing to do because Carol breathed out what sounded like a sigh of relief when Therese brought her lips to hers and then down to her neck. 

She tried to move slowly, to savor the moments, but Carol’s hands yanking her t-shirt over her head and unfastening her bra and unbuttoning her jeans felt so good, too good to take pause. And thirty minutes after Carol shut the apartment door, every item of Therese’s clothing was scattered like breadcrumbs throughout Carol’s apartment, leading to her bedroom and Therese was fairly sure the only words she’d spoken the entire time she’d been there were either “yes,” or “fuck,” or some combination of the two. 

When Carol finally let Therese return the favor (favors, rather), Therese could hardly believe that she was the one coaxing the whines and the expletives from Carol. She wasn’t doubtful that she was more than decent in bed, but Carol was just _so much,_ so seemingly unattainable that it didn’t make sense to Therese. But it must’ve made sense to Carol because there would certainly be bruises left on Therese’s shoulders and arms from fingers gripping too tight and there was a soreness at the back of her head from hands pulling at Therese’s hair. 

It had been a while since Therese had laid in bed next to someone, completely out of breath, with the only thought being how _fun_ that had been. Sometimes sex was tedious, even when it was supposed to be fun, or there was excitement that was tempered by insecurity, stomping out any embers before they could grow. _This_ , whatever it was, had been far from tedious or insecure. If Therese hadn’t been so exhausted, she would’ve gladly kept going all night. But Carol looked just as spent, and Therese smiled inwardly. 

It was late - or early, really - and Therese decided she should leave soon if she had any hope of getting an adequate amount of sleep. 

She laid for another couple of minutes, and then leaned over to kiss Carol before stretching and sitting up. She looked at her phone. “It’s so late, I should really - ”

Carol sat up quickly. “No, stay.” She said it forcefully and then tried again. “I mean, don’t feel like you have to leave. You’re more than welcome to spend the night.”

Her laissez-faire attitude would’ve been believable had she not begun with such an impassioned protest. Therese really did want to stay, she had just assumed, Carol being Carol, she would’ve wanted her space. She didn’t exactly ooze openness and Therese thought that might’ve extended to her physical surroundings, too. But Therese had heard her request loud and clear, and she had no problem taking up the offer. So she just slouched back a bit and smiled at Carol. 

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

And Carol’s grin was wide and she kissed Therese, her hands pushing her down, back into the mattress and eventually one made its way further, over and past Therese’s shoulders and chest and waist and hips, and before Therese knew it, she was coming for a third time. It was lazy and quick. When it was over, Therese laughed quietly, “if I get up to leave, are you going to keep doing that?”

Carol tilted her head from side to side, looking up, pretending to think. “Mmm…probably.”

There was another tattoo on Carol’s ribs - the other side - of an evergreen and Therese ran her finger over it. It wasn’t big, just a few inches.

“So there’s this, the Txakoli one, and _this,”_ a feather underneath Carol’s left breast. “Any others?”

Carol shook her head. Therese had a few tattoos of her own, but they were all easily spotted while fully clothed, and largely unexciting: a half moon near the crease of her elbow, the outline of a mountain on her wrist, and a small sun behind her ear. They were mostly meaningless, but tame enough to not regret. Carol’s were pleasant surprises for Therese to discover like unwrapping presents when she removed Carol’s shirt. 

“I don’t like them much anymore, except the Txakoli one, because it doesn’t make sense and I think it’s funny. I just spent one summer drinking _a lot_ of Txakoli and dreaming of going to San Sebastián, and then Jessica drew this up for me and did it for free. The other two I got when I was twenty, twenty-one. They need to be touched up soon.”

Drifting over the outlines of the other two, Therese said, “I like them all.”

And Carol’s eyes followed Therese’s hands as she studied them. “That makes me like them a bit more.” There was a long pause and then she asked, “will you fuck me again?”

Obviously, Therese obliged. Because there was no universe in which she wouldn’t. None that she could imagine, anyway. She’d fuck Carol in the middle of a crowded subway train if she asked her to. 

Afterward it seemed like Carol was ready to sleep, and thankfully so because Therese kept her eyes open only out of necessity. Carol slinked herself out of bed and pulled on a large t-shirt she found somewhere in her dresser. She asked Therese what she wanted to sleep in, if anything, and the question was so unusually thoughtful. Used to being left to her own devices in these rare scenarios where she slept in someone else’s bed, Therese almost forgot what she wore to sleep. 

“Just a t-shirt is fine.” She thought the next part might be invasive, or possibly a little gross, but considering what the past couple hours had consisted of, Therese shrugged away the shyness. “And maybe underwear? If you don’t mind.”

Unfazed, Carol said, “not at all,” and tossed some toward Therese. She left her bedroom and returned asking, “green or blue?” Toothbrushes, because Carol kept things like that at her apartment. Hopefully not for situations _exactly_ like these. That was Therese’s jealous thought, but maybe for other, similar times when she had platonic visitors. Wishful thinking aside, Therese picked green. They brushed their teeth and Therese examined the state of her hair. When properly combed, it fell past her shoulder blades, but right now the tangles matted throughout made it far shorter. 

She glared over to Carol, who was watching her from the doorway, biting her bottom lip. “Sorry.”

But she didn’t look like she felt any guilt. Therese groaned and Carol smirked and handed her a hair tie. Therese swept everything up into a topknot and vowed to take care of it in the morning. She climbed into Carol’s bed ahead of Carol - who was milling about somewhere in her apartment - and settled into the side that she realized was probably the side Carol slept on only after making herself comfortable. The nightstand was utilized, unlike the the opposite one. A coaster, a book (Therese should read more Zadie Smith), two pens, lip balm, sunglasses, a ring, and an earring missing its match. She’d wait for Carol to tell her to move, though. 

But when Carol came back and handed Therese a full glass of water, she happily crawled to the other side of the bed. 

Therese sipped the water and set it on the coaster. “Your bed is so cozy.”

Carol smiled at her and it felt like more. “I like to think so. It’s the mattress - memory foam.”

It was the sheets, too. Therese felt both cotton and silk and Carol confirmed. She reached over Therese, about to turn off the light, but stopped to dip her head and kiss her. “You’re so pretty.”

Then she twisted the switch and the room was dark. 

Therese laid on her back and listened to Carol shifting to whatever position she slept in. Once the rustling stopped, Therese turned onto her side, facing the inside of the bed. Carol was doing the same, but her eyes were closed and she was far to the other end of the mattress. She looked it, but she wasn’t asleep. She mumbled, “are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”

“I’m more than comfortable.” It was true, too. It only took Therese minutes to fall asleep.

——

A car horn woke her up. It was already 10am. Therese had slept soundly through the night and Carol was still asleep next to her. She looked around for her phone and remembered it had been left on a table nearby Carol’s front door. Making as little noise as possible on the rickety hardwood floor, Therese crept out to the hallway and found it plugged into a charger. She hadn’t asked Carol to do so, she just _did_. She put herself back in bed. Carol hadn’t budged. Therese had no problem lying next to her, listening to her sleep, while she scrolled through emails and Instagram and Facebook. 

Only a few minutes went by before Therese heard, “good morning.”

——

Carol took a moment to listen to Therese squirm around next to her before she opened her eyes. And when she did, it was as close to heaven as Carol would ever get. Not only was she not alone, but she was with _Therese_. Therese who left her speechless and breathless and falling to pieces in her arms last night. She told Therese, “good morning,” and was gifted with eyes gazing back at her. 

She didn’t have much food to offer Therese, so they’d have to venture outside into the world - begrudgingly leave this bed - and get brunch. On a Sunday, that was nearly an impossibility, and that meant Carol would have to go somewhere that she knew somebody. She hated doing it, and hoped Therese didn’t think it was snotty, but it was what worked. 

But Therese seemed to have other plans first, because Carol’s hips were straddled and Therese pushed her shirt up so it bunched over her chest, and Carol couldn’t tell her to not leave marks on her neck, _please_ , because each touch of her lips and teeth and tongue was nothing less than magic. 

Yes, brunch could absolutely wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s tell me what you think, yes?
> 
> By the way, that’s as graphic as things will ever get! So enjoy it, I guess?


	9. Chapter 9

The last time Carol had woken up next to someone had to have been over a year ago, rough estimate. Not including Jessica, who frequently slept in her bed when she didn’t feel like crawling back to her place in Bushwick after nights out (it wasn’t that Carol, Abby, and Tessie didn’t _want_ to venture north, over her way, but they simply won in the numbers game - the three of them living within less than a mile of one another - Tessie and Carol mere feet apart - and Jessica was the odd one out). But Jessica didn’t count, despite being lovely and beautiful enough of a friend, she didn’t wake up and make Carol do _this. This_ was Carol working on slowing her breathing after making enough noise to trigger car alarms. Therese certainly looked proud of herself. 

Carol wished Therese hadn’t rolled off of her so quickly; she wanted something to hold onto. She liked the weight, specifically _her_ weight, on top of her. But not everyone was a fan of that - cuddling and touching and holding and whatnot - Carol knew as much. A lesson learned the hard way. 

Her break-up with Cynthia years ago had Carol’s friends, and her mother, and then a therapist - a suggestion stressed by both of the former, one that was years in the making - telling her to “cool it” before jumping into _another_ relationship, to save herself from the hurt she always experienced from putting so much in and getting far too little in return. She “cooled it,” but the hardness of Cynthia (and the three others before her) had made its mark, cut like a knife and then become a scab she kept picking at despite warnings of a scar. 

The last girl that had stayed over was one Carol thought she liked. She was trying to, at least. She was different and kind of nice and they had mutual friends and saw one another fairly often because of it. So Carol invited her back to her place and the next morning wrongly thought they’d _maybe_ see each other again. But she declined, citing Carol’s past relationships. “You know, you’ve mentioned your exes were all mean and cavalier, but you’re the common denominator in all of it, Carol. I just don’t want to be apart of that.”

That, in particular, stung. It sent Carol into another spiral of questioning her worthiness of ever being in another relationship. Could she really be that terrible of a person? Was she such a shitty girlfriend that none of her relationships ever worked out? Her therapist assured her otherwise, but still, Carol decided for herself: never again. No more talking and getting to know each other, no more daydreaming up plans and dates, no more sleeping over. She did her best to be uncaring and learn the phrase, “your Lyft is outside.” And it worked. But only three times. Then Carol just gave up, unable to find fulfillment in the casualness Jessica often enjoyed and Abby once had. 

She’d become a nun, perhaps. Well…there might be some hurdles there, too. But monastic, at least. 

But last night with Therese had been far from monastic. Although for the amount of times God’s name left Carol’s mouth, it could be argued that it was some sort of holy sacrament. It was Sunday, after all, and if that had been church, brunch had to come next. 

“Are you hungry? Because I’m absolutely famished.”

Therese was hungry. Famished, she agreed, but needed a hairbrush. The request came out shy enough but with a scornful look tacked onto the end. Carol straddled the line of guilt, on one hand, feeling badly she’d done such a number to Therese’s hair, and on the other, loving just how and why she’d done such a number to Therese’s hair. It brushed out nicely, anyway.

Before going to bed she’d gone through the apartment and collected Therese’s clothing, placing it on top of her dresser so she didn’t have to go looking for everything in the morning. She hadn’t meant for Therese to put them back on, though. Obviously she required clothing to leave the apartment, but Carol didn’t expect her to wear her dirty clothes. “Therese, just borrow something of mine.”

She opened the drawer with leggings and sweatpants and then showed Therese where her shirts hung. They were roughly the same size, give or take a few inches and a few pounds - the t-shirt hung slightly looser than intended and leggings a bit long - but Carol decided her clothing had never looked better than it did on Therese. But now she was staring and pulled herself away by heading to the bathroom to find a way to turn Saturday night’s makeup into Sunday morning’s. It would have to do, and once she found leggings and a shirt that would be suitably unmatching to what Therese had picked out, she rushed them out the door and toward Washington Avenue.

Only feet down the first block, she had reached for Therese’s hand without thinking, but her risk was rewarded with fingers curling up into her own. There were times in Carol’s past when she remembered doing similar things, only to be met with hands being snatched away and traded for folded arms, where Carol couldn’t reach them again (and so she folded her arms in turn, and left them that way maybe until this very moment), or fingers that hung limply within hers, and the holding began to feel more like pulling or dragging. 

But Therese wasn’t pushing away, if anything she was gripping Carol’s hand tighter, and thank god for that because Carol might have collapsed otherwise. She resisted the urge to pull her closer, or put her arm around her waist. This hand would be enough. For now. Holding Therese’s hand made Carol regret her choice in restaurant, though, because the walk only lasted all of five minutes. Before they went inside, Carol turned to Therese. 

“Listen, I don’t want you to think that I’ll only ever take you to places where I know people, I’ve just lived in this area long enough and worked in the industry _long enough_ that it happens to work out that way. Plus, I need to be at work in three hours, so time is of the essence.” 

Thankfully, Therese seemed unfazed. In fact, she was almost amused. “You act as if I _like_ waiting. Believe me, I’m thankful your connects.”

Carol breathed out a laugh through her nose and opened the door for them to walk inside. It was small and compact, with people by the door waiting impatiently to sit down. The sight was a familiar one to both her and Therese, and they shared a knowing look. Melissa - the person she was counting on to find them a place to sit - noticed Carol when she walked by.

“Carol!” They hugged and she looked around. “Where’s the rest of _the L Word_?”

Therese was laughing beside her and Carol ran her tongue over her teeth before answering. “Must you? I’m sick of them. They’re being replaced by this one today.” She nodded toward Therese. “Melissa, this is my friend Therese. Therese, this is Melissa. She owns this restaurant.”

They shook hands and Melissa smiled back to Carol. “That’s good for me. Finding spots for the two of you beats having to find a spot for _six_.” That came with a pointed look toward Carol, one for bad behavior. “You don’t mind sitting at the counter, right?”

About to answer, she caught herself, remembering there was another person - Therese - that Carol needed to take into account. She glanced over and Therese was already shrugging her shoulders. She didn’t mind. They sat and they ordered and Carol struggled to make conversation without grinning uncontrollably. She decided she needed something to occupy her mind other than the person right next to her. She was looking at Carol in the sweetest way and the only thing running through Carol’s head were Abby’s past words to her about how people “have very casual sex” all the time and that it didn’t have to be a big deal. This was more than casual, sure, but it had still only been about a week in the making, and Carol thought to herself, _“cool it._ ” 

The man next to Therese reading a newspaper caught her eye. Well, the newspaper did, at least. Inspired, she leaned over Therese to get the guy’s attention, confusing Therese in the process. 

“Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but are you planning on doing that crossword?”

She pointed to the back section of the paper and he flipped it around. “Oh, no. You want it?”

Carol nodded her head and thanked him as he handed over the page before going back to his reading. Therese was shaking her head lightly. “You’re…something else.” 

Maybe so, but Therese had once told her she liked crossword puzzles, and so did Carol, and now she’d just acquired a Sunday Times one. After some folding and searching for a pen, they went to work, filling in the easy ones first and leaving the trickier ones for later - or for never, depending on when their food arrived. The excuse to lean so closely into Therese was a wonderful side effect, too. 

Therese read out loud. “‘Rap group that headlined Lollapalooza ‘95,’ eleven letters, ends in L…”

It only took a few seconds. “Cypress Hill.” And then Carol laughed, thinking about how she was only eleven years old in 1995, but Therese had to have been a baby. “You were on the earth by then, right?”

Therese rolled her eyes. “Yes, Carol. I was born in 1993.”

“I tried a wine yesterday that was older than you. A cab sauv from 1992. It wasn’t very good, though. One of Gen’s tables brought it in and asked me to try it to see what it would be good with. I wanted to say, ‘nothing, I hate this,’ but…”

A story so mundane had Therese looking surprisingly interested. “What did you tell them?”

“I went to Chef Michael and we both agreed that it wasn’t great and just stuck suggested the dry-aged ribeye. Which is totally boring, but the tannins and the alcohol were so overpowering that almost anything else from the menu would get completely lost.”

Now Therese had abandoned the crossword and was drawing lazy spirals on the part of the page next to it, seemingly content with listening to Carol drone on about her job. “Do you not like it when people bring their own bottles?”

This was an easy answer. “Generally, no. I don’t. Not if they aren’t in the industry, anyway. Sometimes I understand - people will bring bottles that are ‘special’ because of various reasons, but usually they’re being cheap or just think they know something that they don’t. I really wanted to have an rule against bringing in bottles - full stop - but that didn’t happen. It’s frustrating for me simply because I make our wine list _so_ accessible - it’s only 65 bottles and I add and remove things every single day. It’s mostly affordable, too.” 

Carol stopped. There was more to say, but she didn’t want to dictate the conversation completely. She kicked herself for flinching in the slightest of ways when Therese ran her fingers down her arm and smiled. “It’s very obvious that you’re good at what you do. And you’re interesting when you talk about it. Sometimes I wish you did more of the talking more often.”

Their food came before Carol could say anything in return. She was eating fast and Therese noticed, because she commented, “you _are_ hungry in the morning, aren’t you?”

Slightly embarrassed, Carol felt her cheeks getting warm, which didn’t help the situation. “I am. On days that I work it’s usually the only full meal I eat. Plus, we did sort of work up an appetite.”

Now it was Therese’s turn to blush, and her lips turned into a lopsided grin. “Last night was fun. And this morning.”

Carol finished chewing a bite of food, thinking of what to say next, how to use this as an in-road. “Can I expect that we’ll do that again soon? Just so I know whether or not to keep that toothbrush around.”

“Oh, right. The toothbrush.” Therese’s eyes looked to the ceiling but then she giggled. “Yes. _Keep the toothbrush around_. But how far away is soon? Because I left my bag and my clothes at your place…”

Soon could easily be sooner than Carol imagined. “Oh, what a shame. I guess you’ll have to come with me all the way back to my apartment to pick them up.”

They both finished their food quickly but still felt starved. 

\-----

By Tuesday, Therese was ready to just give in and text Carol herself. Not that anything was stopping her from doing it earlier, she’d just expected to hear from her sooner. But, it was a two way street. 

Last Sunday after brunch, they’d barely made it back to Carol’s apartment fully clothed. They ran out the clock until Carol had only an hour left to get ready for work and make it there on time. She kissed Therese goodbye, saying she’d see her later that night, and Therese bounced down the two flights of stairs to the sidewalk below. 

Back at her apartment, Lauren was waiting, ready to pounce when Therese walked through the door. She danced around Therese and sang a jingle about a walk of shame, confirming just exactly where Therese had been last night that she wasn’t making it home until 1:23 on Sunday afternoon. She had a series of questions, mostly about details that normally would mortify Therese, but Lauren’s lack of boundaries was oddly refreshing. She’d only really talked about these sorts of things with Dannie, and he was off the table for this particular situation.

At work that evening, Carol had somehow become more beautiful in the hours since Therese had seen her. She was wearing tight plaid pants and a black button down and her hair was half tied in a bun at the back of her head. When she passed by Therese as Therese clocked in, she said, “hi, Therese,” simply and cooly, but the flush that spread over her cheeks betrayed her. If it hadn’t been so busy, Therese might’ve found more excuses to seek out Carol, to ask her little questions or for help with something she didn’t really need assistance with, but the only opportunity that presented itself was when one of her tables was pissed off - at her, for some reason - that their food was taking too long. They wanted to, “see a manager.” Jeanette was nowhere to be found, so Therese sucked it up and went to Carol, not pleased with their only real interaction of the night being due to negativity. Carol sighed, looking flustered, and passed by Therese to approach the table on her own. 

Therese watched from afar, unable to hear, much like the night she’d met Carol. Carol listened intently - or at least pretended to - as a woman chewed her out like she had with Therese. At one point the woman had a finger pointed to Carol’s face and Therese could see the slight raising of Carol’s brows, the hardening of her lips, the straightening of her posture. She hated this part of her job, Therese knew. She’d told her that she didn’t have the patience for it, and it took everything in her to not just throw her hands up and walk away in these types of scenarios. 

The resolution was to comp some items on their bill, and Carol looked drained from the whole interaction. For the first time it occurred to Therese how hard keeping Carol a secret would be, because the urge to squeeze her neck or run her hand up and down her back was a tough one to suppress. She couldn’t even kiss her in her office at the end of the night, because Jack was with her. They had four bottles of wine opened and were scribbling notes onto an old menu. Jack was in Therese’s chair. 

She worked on Monday night and wished she could just tell Carol to never schedule her another day she wasn’t managing ever again. But, that was, of course, unrealistic, because it was a couple hundred dollars when all was said and done. She went out with Gen and Richard after work but felt somewhere else entirely the whole time. Some of Gen’s friends joined them and she noticed all of their tattoos, thinking about how Carol’s friend Jessica probably did the majority.

Once Tuesday came, she took the time to clean her apartment and do laundry, a task she’d been neglecting in favor of hiding away in the studio on her days off. Her phone didn’t ring or vibrate, but she still checked it every few minutes. At 6pm, she’d thought, _fuck it,_ and went to text Carol, who seemed to have the exact same idea, and beat Therese to it. 

_What are you up to?_

It was so casual, so blasé, which was _so Carol_ \- she was in her words, at least. But casual was hardly a way to describe a person who made two reservations _just in case_ , or kept toiletries at her apartment for the chance of overnight guests. She told Carol she wasn’t doing much of anything and Carol asked if she wanted to meet her at Prospect Park. She was there with her friend, Abby - who Therese had met, and who Carol had talked about enough to no longer need to qualify her name with a descriptor - but she’d be leaving soon. Therese said she’d be there in half an hour. 

After re-doing her makeup and finding just the right jacket to wear, it was more like forty-five minutes. Therese spotted Carol and Abby kicking a soccer ball back and forth. Carol looked cute wearing attire completely inappropriate for the activity - black jeans and combat boots and a thin white t shirt. Abby saw Therese first, and when Carol looked over she kicked the ball toward Therese, nearly hitting her in the face, but she ducked. 

“Why didn’t you catch that?” she shouted, one arm jutted out in punctuation. 

“I never said anything about being sporty!” Therese yelled back. Carol was clearly athletic, and it made Therese want to be too, so she could come to the park and do things like this with her. 

Carol walked over to her, arms folded, and just stood in front of her smiling, and Therese smiled back. They stood there, grinning, not knowing just how to proceed, when Abby appeared, now with the addition of a toddler in her arms. 

“Okay, well, we’re leaving now,” Abby directed her words to Carol, and then looked at her daughter and back to Therese. “Rindy, this is Therese. Can you say hi to Therese?”

Therese said hi and waited, but Rindy buried her face into Abby’s shoulder. 

“Okay, guess not. It’s not you Therese, she’s a brat to everyone. Even Carol, and Carol gives her more presents than every other adult in Rindy’s life put together.” She gazed back at Rindy again, who looked ready for a nap. “Isn’t that right, Rindy?”

They said their goodbyes and Abby and Rindy left, Abby kicking the soccer ball out of the park with her. Now they were alone, save for the hundred or so strangers in the vicinity. 

Therese tilted her head to the side and examined Carol, her smile and her the way it was mirrored in her eyes. “So what’d you want to do?”

Carol tilted her head in turn and said, “well first, this,” and kissed Therese on the lips. And then she added, “all right, that was all. See you at work Thursday.”

Feigning rejection, Therese pretended to start walking away, until Carol pulled her hand to yank her back toward her and kiss her more. Finally, they broke apart. “Have you eaten dinner?”

Therese shook her head and Carol continued, “hear me out, what if we get ice cream at Ample Hills _instead_ of dinner? Or we can have real food, if you’d rather.”

Ice cream at Ample Hills sounded as good as anything Therese could think of. Knowing it was Carol’s first choice made it all the more enticing. They walked out of the park and Therese snaked Carol’s arm out from the tangle of her other arm across her chest and found her hand to hold. 

They shared two separate cups: one with sorbet and the other with ice cream. Therese couldn’t choose and Carol happily appeased her. They sat outside on the black metal chairs and Therese could feel Carol’s eyes on her as they ate. 

“So you hung out with Gen last night?”

It wasn’t as if Therese had been trying to keep that piece of information from Carol. She would’ve told her herself. Gen was her friend and Carol knew as much. 

“Yeah. How did you…?” 

“Instagram. Gen posts everything she does. I’m surprised she doesn’t live stream herself sleeping.”

 _Oh._ Of course. Therese wanted to explain but Carol didn’t let her. 

“Sorry, I know she’s your friend. I shouldn’t say things like that.”

Therese wanted to say _something_. Say that she didn’t like the way Gen talked to Carol, or the way she talked about Carol, but that sounded too protective, and Carol didn’t seem like the type of person who needed protecting. 

“Yeah, it was boring. Her friends aren’t very fun.”

Carol didn’t say anything but was clearly biting her tongue. She changed the subject though, to what Therese had been doing all day, and what she’d been doing all day, and to whether or not Therese wanted to come over. She said they could drink wine and watch a movie, like Therese needed a better incentive than just Carol to go back to Carol’s place. 

And if Therese hadn’t already felt special being picked - being chosen, it seemed - by Carol to be the person she doted on, then drinking wine with Carol in her apartment would certainly do the trick. She asked Therese if she wanted red or white or bubbles and Therese chose red. Watching Carol pull out bottles and put some back, setting others out, with such interest and precision could’ve kept Therese engrossed all night. 

Finally she held out two to Therese and asked, “which label do you like better?”

It was funny, because Carol had known Therese wouldn’t have much of an opinion on what she picked otherwise. The distinct winner was a simple white label with large, black cursive writing that looked handwritten. Carol seemed happy with her decision, and told Therese she’d picked a Beaujolais from Regnie. She poured it and said it was elegant and bright, adding “just like you,” and then went on about its acidity while Therese soared. 

Before they settled on her couch, Carol waited for Therese to taste the wine. 

“Do you like it?” It came out eager and hopeful and this must be what Carol loved about her job. 

“I _really_ do.” Therese smiled back and let Carol relax. She really did like it. It was bright, like Carol said, not that Therese would’ve chosen that word on her own. 

The idea of a movie was abandoned, neither having the attention span to sit through one. Instead they talked, and Therese leaned back on the arm of the couch, bending her legs at the knee, Carol sitting underneath them against the couch’s back. The bottle was finished quickly and when Carol noticed, she took the glass from Therese’s hands and set it on her coffee table next to her own, and shifted herself on top of Therese. But then Carol’s phone rang and she let out a frustrated, high-pitched groan. Therese was giggly, because the lack of substantial dinner mixed with wine had left her slightly buzzed, but Carol hushed her and held her phone up for Therese to read. 

It was Harge. Carol put a hand over Therese’s mouth and answered. 

“What?”

If Carol wanted her to not laugh, then answering the phone like that and making her little annoyed faces was not helping. 

“Yes, it’ll be done by tomorrow.”

Carol’s look of annoyance was becoming more genuine and less amusing to Therese.

“Listen, Harge, I get that you’re at work and thinking about this but I’m not and I’d rather you just trust I’ll do this tomorrow.”

Another, longer pause. And then she laughed.

“Okay, _dude_ ,” She made a strange face and Therese figured Harge had just called her ‘dude.’ “I _do_ have someone over and I’d like to get back to that…exactly, yes…okay. _Bye Harge_.”

She hung up and said, “well, that was stupid.”

Therese was sitting up now, next to Carol, and dragged her fingers over Carol’s knee. “What was that about?”

“It’s nothing,” she sighed and it definitely wasn’t nothing. “I just have this trip to Chicago that I’m leaving for on Monday and Harge wants the schedule for next week done by now so everyone has plenty of time to direct their grievances toward me.”

There was more to it, and Therese tried to pry a little more from Carol with moderate success. Carol wasn’t looking forward to this trip to Chicago. For one, she hated traveling alone. It also was for work and took up her days off, but she knew it was good for her to do it. For the networking and her reputation and, “silly things like that.” Therese found herself not a fan of this upcoming trip, either, because it meant Carol would be gone for four days. That part she kept to herself, though. 

“Harge knew you had someone here?”

Carol smirked and scoffed and said, “he always thinks that’s why I’m bothered when he calls and he’s _always_ wrong. He was very delighted to be right for once.” 

Therese just smiled, because she didn’t know what to say. She wanted to help, but felt useless. All she could do was listen. 

“Anyway, sorry. I shouldn’t be as stressed out as I am and none of this is extremely sexy, which isn’t conducive to what I’d much rather be doing right now.” 

There wasn’t time to tell Carol that it was okay to be stressed and that not everything had to be sexy and fun all of the time, because Carol pushed her back down onto the couch and was intent on picking up where they’d left off before Harge’s interruption. Though the sofa was considerably less comfortable than the bed, Therese couldn’t complain about the lack of space making it necessary to stay laid on top of Carol long after they both were finished. The only thing Therese could do that, for some reason, felt like helping ease Carol’s stress - other than sex - was say _yes_ , when she asked her if she would stay the night again. _Yes_ was the only answer that fit when it came to Carol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not every chapter will take place only over the course of hours/days. I’ll pick up the pace soon, I promise!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is different? It was going to be longer, but I had to break it up because it was getting, well, _long_. And I used this chapter to keep things moving along. 
> 
> Anyway, if it feels off in any way, sorry, but also I kind of like it, so I'm only a little bit sorry. It does mean there's an additional chapter now, though, so that's something!
> 
> Side note: next chapter might take a while longer, because I just got my work schedule for the next week and promptly sobbed. So...

Carol was _busy_. 

She’d told Therese she would be in the days leading up to her trip to Chicago, but Therese hadn’t understood what busy really meant. 

Waking up at Carol’s on Wednesday morning had been pleasant, to put things mildly. Though Therese generally reserved the entirety of the day to devote to time in the studio, she made the rare exception when Carol asked her if she would stay for breakfast. They’d stayed up late and slept-in late and Carol was only left with a few hours before needing to get ready and head to work, which she made clear she’d like to fill with a combination of having sex and maybe pausing to scroll through Instagram or load the dishwasher in between. As the early afternoon ticked by, however, Therese saw Carol become quickly and increasingly miserable, not wanting Therese to leave and not wanting to go to work. She said she wouldn’t mind in the slightest if it were any other day, because any other day Therese would be scheduled to work, too. 

When Therese left, Carol’s goodbye was somewhere between pouting and anger. Not anger at Therese, but Therese certainly felt it. She spent the remainder of the day at the studio, thinking about Carol. Her most recent fascination was Carol’s handwriting, which was, by most standards, not great. Carol didn’t think so either. But there was a uniformity to it that made it easy to decipher and distinctively Carol. When Therese ran out of patience in turning Carol’s lowercase - so rushed that she couldn’t be bothered to lift her wrist much, the result a delinquent cursive - into block lettering, she examined just how many shades of red were in the wine stain, only a millimeter or two in diameter, left on her t-shirt from the previous night.

On Friday, Therese managed to convince Carol to let her buy her coffee at the place she went to all the time by Therese’s apartment. And then she managed to convince Carol to come back to her apartment, a place of which Carol still hadn’t seen the inside. She came in and poked around and commented that she was envious of the renovations - as much as she loved her own apartment, “it would really be nice to have air conditioning in the summer.” But Therese didn’t waste much time - something that was always of the essence when they were seeing each other _before_ work - and led Carol to her bedroom. At first Therese had been annoyed by the absence of her roommates, wanting to be able to show off Carol to _someone_ , but she quickly found the big, shiny, silver lining to having the place to herself. 

But there was no seeing Carol Friday or Saturday night after work. Even when Therese had a real, legitimate question about a bottle on the wine list for her, when she found Harge he told her to ask Jack because Carol was, “a little swamped with work right now, she’ll be on the floor later tonight though.” 

Sunday night, Therese reveled in the fact that, because Carol was closing (something Therese thought was wholly unfair, given she had to fly to Chicago the next day), she’d at least get to hang out in her office for a few minutes. Making sure she was the last of the servers to finish her work, once everyone else left, she bounded downstairs and slipped into Carol’s office. She found Carol typing away on her laptop. Even the air in the office felt a little chaotic, but when Carol saw Therese, she noticeably relaxed. 

“Hey,” Carol gave her a tired smile. “All finished?”

Therese just nodded and walked closer to Carol to hand her receipts and cash and when she was standing right in front of her, Carol pulled at her hand to bring her closer in and kiss her. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much this weekend,” Carol said, and then kissed her again. 

There wasn’t any reason for her to apologize, and Therese told her as much. Therese sat with her after she finished counting Therese’s cash and asked her if she was finished packing (she was), what time her flight left tomorrow (2pm, so she’d leave for the airport at 12:30), and how much more she had to do before leaving. 

“I’m almost done here. Probably another twenty or thirty minutes…” Carol trailed off, seemingly unsure of how to proceed, and then started again. “Feel free to say ‘no,’ because it’s late, but do you want to come over tonight?”

The hope in Carol’s voice was surprising, because it came with an uncertainty, like Therese might turn her down. Which was not the case in the slightest. She waited and Carol rushed to finish up - there was something oddly thrilling about wandering around the empty restaurant with Carol, frantically making sure the doors were all locked, lights off, alarm set. When they were out on the sidewalk, Therese offered to order a Lyft but Carol beat her to it, adding, “don’t worry about it, I’m going to expense this. As far as I’m concerned, making me stay at work until 1am - on the day I’m leaving for a _work trip_ \- is their responsibility.”

The little ways in which Carol stood up for herself, her small acts of defiance, delighted Therese to no end. 

\-----

Apparently another part of Carol dreading going to Chicago was that, not only did she hate travelling alone, but she was afraid of flying. She still did it all the time, she pointed out, but she really hated it, and being alone made things worse. 

Monday morning, far too early, there was a knock on Carol’s door that she seemed to expect, because she slid out of bed immediately to retrieve whoever was at the door. Therese put on sweatpants and checked the time; it was only 9am. But she was curious and awake now, so she got up to follow Carol into her living room. The person was familiar, and Therese remembered Tessie, who _looked like she was still a virgin_. Plus Therese hadn’t exactly needed a great memory to have the names and faces of Carol’s friends memorized by now - she’d done her fair share of Instagram stalking. 

Tessie handed Carol a pill bottle that did not contain pills but weed, and then she ran her hands down Carol’s upper arms. “You’re going to be fine. The plane will not have to make an emergency landing. You won’t be sitting next to a baby. I bet you’ll get to sit next to a dog. You’ll - ” She noticed Therese hovering nearby, drifting closer. Her eyes widened a little and she beamed. “Oh! Sorry! Hi, Therese!” 

Either she was great with names or Carol had talked about her to Tessie, Therese had a nice suspicion it was the latter. Tessie wrapped up fast after seeing Therese, noting that she was going to be late for work and had just come by to drop off that little parting gift to Carol and get her mailbox key. When she left, Carol looked guilty. “Sorry if that woke you up. She came to drop off _this,_ ” Carol shook the little container, “because I really would prefer to get stoned before flying. I used to take a Xanax, but I’d rather not with the prescriptions, honestly.”

Carol sat on her sofa and Therese joined her, and watched as she rolled a joint without trouble. Therese knew Carol didn’t smoke often - she would know, they’d spent enough time together in the past few weeks - but there must have been a time in her life when she did, because she barely even needed to pay attention while tending to her own handiwork. Therese wanted to know what about the trip - other than the flying - was so stressful to Carol. 

“You never really explained what you’ll be doing in Chicago. Like, why are you needed there?”

Carol flipped her hair over her shoulder and gave Therese a cocky look. “Because I’m fucking brilliant.” Carol was kidding, obviously, but Therese was the one who knew there was truth to her words. “Chef Michael’s friend Parker is in the process of opening this restaurant - in Chicago - and it’s mostly vegetarian. There aren’t too many vegetarian sommeliers.” Carol motioned toward herself and then corrected, “well, I take that back. There could be plenty of _certified_ somms who don’t eat meat - that I don’t know. But I happen to be have a more…” 

She was using her hands, trying to grasp at a the words, but she wasn’t finding the right ones for a reason, and Therese figured the sentence could be finished by her saying she was, essentially, at a more esteemed level than someone who was just a certified sommelier. “You’re an advanced sommelier.”

With her joint now rolled, Carol slid it back into the pill container before returning to the conversation. “Right.”

Before she could continue again, Therese interrupted. “What does that mean exactly?”

Carol rolled her eyes and Therese could tell she was about to diminish whatever was the real explanation. “It means that I had to take a test for three days and pay a ton of money to let people know I’m really great at tasting and serving wine. I mean, I worked really hard for it, and it means that I’m recognized at least a little more than I would be otherwise, and asked to do things like go to Chicago to work with these other three somms to build this wine list and beverage program. Anyway…”

“That’s really impressive, Carol.”

A few seconds passed and Carol just held Therese’s gaze before saying, “thanks, Therese.” 

\-----

As requested, Carol texted Therese when she landed. There wasn’t much more of an exchange afterward, because Therese was going into work and she knew Carol would be busy with getting to her hotel and then to the restaurant. Even though Carol never worked on Mondays with Therese, just the knowledge that she wasn’t even in the same city anymore made Therese want to be anywhere else. 

But the night at work was slower than usual, and it left time for her, Gen, and Dannie to goof around to pass the time. When Therese and Dannie were standing by a server station, polishing glassware, Gen came barreling up to them. 

“Oh my god, Dannie - it’s Carol’s divorcée. She’s here, she’s at the bar. She’s going to be so pissed that Carol isn’t here.” Gen was laughing and then Dannie was too, _hard_. Therese, obviously, had missed the joke. 

“I have to text Carol. I bet she’ll be so mad.” Dannie was taking out is phone, presumably to do what he said he would, and motioned to Jack who had walked over to join them, pointing out a woman, probably in her fifties, sitting at the bar. Jack started laughing too. 

Therese had to ask. “What are you guys talking about?”

In a story told in part by both Gen and Dannie, the woman at the bar was apparently someone who’d come in for the first time several months ago; she was “crazy,” “in the middle of divorcing her husband,” and one time Carol had said - completely in jest - that she bet she could “fuck her if she wanted to.” But then the woman kept coming in multiple nights a week and asking for Carol, and it became either a more elaborate joke, or less of one altogether. 

“She would just sit at the bar and drink wine, but talk Carol’s ear off the entire time. Anyway, she hasn’t been in here in at least a month. Carol thought she was off the hook but I just texted her: ‘guess who’s back?’” 

The bright side was Gen and Dannie seemed to enjoy this side of Carol - one that was more personal with them and funny, the one Therese knew - and Therese liked the idea of them, namely Dannie, getting along so well. The downside was every other part of the story. Therese did her best to laugh with them, say things like, “yeah, that’s nuts,” and hoped she didn’t seem upset. Later into the evening, in a moment both completely bizarre and very relieving, Jack stood next to Therese while she was at a computer putting in an order. His arms were crossed and he scanned the dining room - a managerial tactic used in order to appear to be working. Without turning to Therese, he said, “Carol doesn’t _actually_ want to sleep with that woman. It’s only a joke. You know, because she loves _Real Housewives_ so much.”

Therese’s eyes moved from the screen in front of her to find Jack’s staring back. After that he walked away. 

\-----

Gen called her Tuesday morning, desperate. Could Therese please pick up her shift tonight? She needed to work late with her writing partners - or she “wanted to, not needed, but still. Please? I’ll owe you big time.” Normally, Therese would say no. Carol didn’t work Tuesdays so Therese’s incentive to work was rock bottom and her reason to keep her night free was everything, but with Carol out-of-town, that didn’t matter as much. She was already in Manhattan and could use the shirt she was currently wearing to work in. Also, she wouldn’t mind Gen being indebted to her. 

Usually Tuesday nights were slow, but this one was an outlier. Good for Therese - she suspected she would make at minimum three hundred dollars in tips - bad for her phone - her already-low battery hadn’t expected to need to make it past midnight, and it died before Therese left to head home. 

It was past 1am when Therese flopped back onto her bed. She plugged her phone into a charge and when the screen lit back up, a text from Gen came through, then one from Lauren, and then a voicemail notification. That one was from Carol. Therese ignored the texts and went straight to the voicemail. _51 seconds._

“Hey… um, your phone is either dead or it’s off or you’re underground, but I was just calling to say hi. _Ouch. Jesus._ ” Therese laughed hearing Carol obviously hit a part of her body on something. “Sorry, I’m also kind of drunk right now. It’s been… a long day.” Carol sighed and Therese smiled around the fingernail she was biting. “But it was good. I’m finally back at my hotel and I was _hoping_ to hear about _your_ day, but maybe that will have to wait. So… call me tomorrow or text me or something. If not, I’ll see you Thursday, of course. Okay, well… goodnight, Therese.”

That had been left two hours ago and Therese figured - hoped - Carol was asleep by now, so she texted her instead of calling. 

_Hey, my phone has been dead like all night and I just got home. Your voicemail made my entire day. Text me tomorrow, I want to hear about everything._

But on Wednesday they played phone tag. Carol called Therese while she was still asleep, and then Therese called her back while she was, presumably, working. She did get a text, though, apologizing and telling Therese that things had been hectic. Not bad - it turned out she was having a great time - but there was a lot to do. Carol remarked that they might be the only group of people who considered day-drinking to be a chore, and Therese smiled to herself at Carol’s modesty, her assertion that her job could be reduced to “day-drinking.” Remembering Carol’s words in her kitchen to Therese, over a month ago now, about this job being her life’s work, Therese thought to tell her as much.

 _Hey now, you know very well you aren’t just sitting around drinking for fun. Don’t worry about calling me if you’re too busy, totally understandable._

Therese didn’t get anything back right away. It took a little while, actually, and she was afraid she’d said the wrong thing, until her phone vibrated and she was certain she absolutely had not.

 _You’re my favorite person._

With nothing to say that could compare, Therese just slipped her phone into her bag, and left their conversation at that before heading to the studio. 

\-----

They finally caught each other on Thursday morning. 

Carol didn’t have much time - there was a lot to get finish up before she left for the airport that evening, but she had a few questions. “First of all, do you have plans after work tonight?”

Always willing to take the rare opportunity to tease Carol when it presented itself, Therese said she did, and she swore she heard a scoff come from the other end of the line. Therese clarified by saying she _planned_ to see Carol. She didn’t figure it was a given, she’d just hoped, and Carol seemed to as well, because she perked up in her reply. “Oh good, because I’d _really_ like to have sex with you.”

Before Therese could sound scandalized, Carol continued, “second question, are you busy on Tuesday?”

“I don’t think so, no.” Therese didn’t _think_ , she knew, but she liked to hold on to _some_ dignity on occasion. 

The person that had just so boldly requested to have sex with Therese that evening while she walked down a street in Chicago was nowhere to be found, replaced by a more timid, cautious voice that Therese knew she had to soften to. “Perfect. Okay.” There was a pause, and a sharp inhale. “Can I take you to dinner again?”

For the life of her, Therese couldn’t figure out exactly why Carol seemed to ask so carefully. Because of course Therese would say yes. But she wouldn’t prod Carol about it, and met her in earnesty. “I’d love that.”

“ _Great,_ ” the words came out in an exhale and Therese could hear the smile through the phone. “But hey, I have to get going, but I’ll see you tonight at work, okay?”

They exchanged goodbyes and hung up and Therese couldn’t decide what she was looking forward to the most.

\-----

Carol let Therese order their Lyft, for once. 

She’d arrived at work that night around 10pm, and let Jack and then Jeanette and finally Harge leave. When Therese saw her walk through the back door - she’d just so happened to be standing at the server station nearby - Carol smiled and blushed and brushed right past her, heading down the hall, downstairs, likely to her office. Gen asked Therese if she could buy her a drink after work to thank her for Tuesday, Carol was standing within earshot and Therese declined. But later, without the presence of Gen, Carol told her that she should just go and then meet her back at work afterward, because she’d be working at least for another hour after Therese was done. So that’s what she did, and when she met Carol back outside of the restaurant, Carol looked ready to collapse. Therese took her weekender bag from her and rubbed her shoulder while they waited for the car. 

At Carol’s apartment, Carol all but fell onto her sofa, taking Therese down with her. And she stayed like that, laid on top of Therese, shifting only to make them both more comfortable. Finally she was positioned to lay between Therese’s legs, her chest resting on her abs and her head just underneath her chin. Carol said to give her, “just a couple of minutes to lay here.” Therese brushed her fingers through Carol’s hair and within those couple minutes, Carol was sleeping, her breathing deep and heartbeat slow. She wouldn’t wake her, Therese decided, not just yet. She was content with just lying on the couch and killing time on her phone for a while, not quite ready to sleep herself. And Carol was _so_ tired. 

Therese let almost an hour pass before figuring it was time to wake Carol up to move to her bed. She pet her hair more and pushed her fingers into her back, trying not to startle - to wake her as gently as possible. “Hey, Carol. Carol, let’s move to your bed.”

There were a few stages to Carol waking up. She blinked and looked around, disoriented from sleep, and then she saw Therese, and she almost smiled but her face turned to guilt instead. 

“How long have I been sleeping?”

“Like an hour.”

Carol looked horrified. “An hour? Oh my _god._ I invite you over and then just fucking fall asleep. Therese, I’m so sorry.”

But Therese didn’t want her to apologize. She furrowed her brows and shook her head to make it stop. “Cut it out. Carol. I don’t mind. You’re exhausted. Let’s go to bed, okay?”

There was still the trace of guilt, almost shame, in Carol’s expression, but she sat up and went with Therese to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth and then to her bedroom, and Carol’s bed truly was more comfortable than the couch, as much as Therese liked Carol sleeping on top of her, particularly getting to run her hand through Carol’s hair. And it wasn’t as if Carol was in a separate room, so Therese wasn’t sure what was stopping her from doing it now. 

“Can I play with your hair?”

There was a sudden, but fleeting, energy in Carol’s voice. She almost laughed. “ _Yes._ ” She scooted herself closer, into Therese’s side and draped an arm over her waist, her thumb finding Therese’s hipbone and stroking it. 

Therese dragged her fingers over Carol’s scalp, behind her ears and down her neck. Suddenly Therese said, “I really missed you,” into the quietness of the room. 

Carol’s thumb stopped moving and then started up again, and her face tried to burrow further into Therese, and Therese could feel the smile on Carol’s lips against her skin.

“You have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? Concerns? But, like, really.
> 
> Oh, fun fact: every time I write Tessie, I imagine her as Mandy Moore.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, _I_ want to be a Real Housewife so I can get paid to just live my life and not have to go back to work.
> 
> Kidding - mostly - I love my job. But things were downright rowdy this week. Hence the lack of updates. 
> 
> This chapter is a bridge of sorts, it’s shorter, but necessary, and now the story will be yet another chapter long, because I'm realizing how slow moving things are on my end. Anyway, enjoy!

The sound of Carol’s voice coming from the other room woke Therese up. She wasn’t talking to her, she was just talking loudly on the phone. Therese sat up in bed and craned her head forward to eavesdrop.

“…I’m saying I can give myself a break at two-ish and go then…no, _I’m_ not doing a pedicure but you guys can…Jess, we don’t _all_ have to do them at the exact same time…I said _Jess_ , not Tess…Listen, I’ll be there at two. If you guys come, you come. If not, whatever. I’m hanging up now…Okay, bye.”

By the time Carol hung up, Therese had made her way into the living room where Carol stood, seemingly already showered and changed, with the beginnings of makeup on her face. It was only just past 9am though, and Therese had no idea why Carol was getting ready so early. But Carol wondered the same thing about Therese. “What are you doing up?”

Something was different about Carol, Therese thought. She looked happy. 

“I heard you talking…” That was about it. She just woke up and Carol wasn’t there. And now here she was.

Carol’s face fell a little. “Oh, sorry. Was I talking that loud? I’m just not used to…” She paused and trailed off and Therese knew she meant she wasn’t used to having another person in her apartment. 

“No, that’s okay. But are you, like, leaving soon?” 

“Sort of. I have a lot to do today. Just a heads up - you can be mad at me later - but I’m changing just about half of the bottles on the wine list within the course of the week. I’ll message everyone about it in a few hours. If you can get to work a little early today, it would probably be helpful for you. But it’s really not a big deal if you can’t.”

There was a clear hesitation in Carol’s voice when she mentioned Therese coming into work early. It was considerate of the fact that Therese standing in her living room barely clothed was a unique circumstance and it wasn’t the same for her coworkers. But Therese would’ve come into work early had Carol asked her to a month ago - before any of this. 

“Yeah, I can make it in early.” She smiled and Carol did too. “Why are you doing so much this week?”

Carol shrugged and walked back into her bedroom, Therese in tow. She was sifting through her closet for a sweatshirt and Therese laid herself back on the bed. “Change of seasons, menu changes. Plus this work in Chicago gave me a slew of new ideas, so…” A black sweatshirt was chosen and she spun around. “I don’t have to leave _just yet_ though.”

The next time Therese woke up - hours later - Carol had already left. She left a note though, a sticky note, stuck to Therese’s forehead. It said that she didn’t want to wake Therese but there was an alarm set on her clock for 2pm - just in case - and to please turn it off. Therese could stay as long as she liked, and to turn the lock on the handle on her way out.

Before she’d fallen back asleep, Carol had climbed out of bed and left the room for a couple of minutes only to return with toast and coffee for Therese, and some kind of spinach- or kale-y-looking smoothie for herself. She let Therese have a few sips, only convincing her after promising there was apple and some frozen banana in there. Even with the food and coffee, Therese was still exhausted. And Carol just lounged on her side, propped up on an elbow, and talked with Therese even though Therese kept her eyes shut most of the time. And then at some point, Therese must’ve slipped back into sleep. 

——

It was nice - a relief, even - to see every scheduled server and bartender had showed up early after receiving Carol’s last-minute, totally-optional request. Even Gen was there, though that shouldn’t have surprised Therese anymore. Gen’s relationship with Carol might have been a slightly contentious one, sure, but Gen was a shark. In a good way. She brought in a lot of money to the tip-pool. Carol once said she could sell a piece of chewed gum to a table. It was the reason her abrasiveness often went unpunished. 

Jack came in carrying two bottles of wine and Carol followed behind with three. When she saw nine people waiting for her, she said “oh, shit,” clearly not expecting the audience. 

It was a struggle for Therese to watch Carol do her job and actually learn what she needed to learn when she spent a good chunk of the time thinking about Carol laying next to her in her bed that morning, _giggling_ while Therese ate toast with her eyes closed. Knowing Carol put so much time and thought and precision into her work was the only thing that kept Therese out of her head. Everyone groaned when Carol announced that within a week, 24 of the 65 bottles on the wine list would be different. “But! That’s why we’re here now, okay? You’ll taste them now and take notes and you’ll be able to sell them.”

And she started pouring them things. A Gamay that could drink well with half of their menu and they’d offer for under seventy-five dollars, a Cote-de-Beaune she wanted to see sold with the Dover sole, the _exact same wine_ Therese had drank last week at her apartment (Carol, of course, did not describe it as such). There was a muscadet that she dragged the oyster shucker over for, and he shucked oysters for them to eat with the wine. “There is literally no reason for anyone committing to a dozen oysters to _not_ have this bottle of muscadet on their table. It’s a classic pairing for a reason.”

Then it was all over too soon and Carol was shooing them away, telling them to get ready for the night while her and Jack stayed back to clean up. Therese had become a bit suspicious of Jack; first there had been the comment when Carol was in Chicago and since then he’d been oddly friendly, asking her how she was and making small talk here and there. On paper, it sounded like a the behavior of a normal coworker being nice, but Jack had been going out of his way to interact with her. Therese didn’t want to read too much into it, though, and brushed it off. Maybe she’d bring it up to Carol if it continued. 

\-----

She wasn’t supposed to see Carol outside of work on Saturday. Carol rushed out well before Therese, at exactly 11pm. Earlier she had told Therese she was going out to meet her friends. Apparently Jessica was leaving town until Thanksgiving to guest artist at tattoo shops in Chicago and Portland and San Diego and somewhere else, so Carol’s friends were already somewhere drinking and Carol had to leave to find them. 

Therese used her absence as an excuse to grab few drinks after work with Dannie, instead. But later, Carol texted her. Around 2am. Asking Therese what she was up to - an unimaginative disguise to the real question. Therese was with Dannie, but she didn’t have to be. So she tossed the last of her drink back and said goodbye to Dannie and grabbed a cab back to her apartment where Carol would meet her. Not wanting to be a horrible roommate, she told Carol, “remember, you have to keep it down a little.”

The response she got nearly put her on the floor. 

“I’ll try but no promises, babe.”

It was both a whisper and words being pressed into her jawline. And part of that was something sober Carol would’ve absolutely said, but the last, small part of it was something only drunk Carol slipped out. And Therese loved it. And if Carol had _tried_ , it wasn’t super hard. But like she said, she hadn’t promised. 

\-----

It had felt like Tuesday was the day that would never arrive. When it finally did, Therese spent the afternoon in Manhattan. She’d made Dannie accompany her to the art supply store to find the absolute finest paint brushes available for oils. He asked what she was using them for but she wouldn’t tell him. She couldn’t. Not yet. She hated talking projects out before getting started, anyway. Therese bought four of almost-the-same brushes, bristles the same width but each differing in length, all meant for slightly different jobs.

“These are usually for painting miniatures and models and shit, Therese. Are you doing something like that?”

She absolutely wasn’t. In fact, the canvas she planned to use would be three by four feet. “God no, nothing like that. Same old painting, just trying something new.”

He shrugged as she picked out oil paints in cadmium yellow, hansa yellow, titanium white, and about ten others. 

The only time she had left in the studio before needing to leave - factoring in an additional forty-five minutes to change her outfit the minimum _hundred_ times (give or take) that was becoming a pattern for Therese - was to stretch her canvas and then prime it, something Dannie’s help was always good for. She made up an excuse to leave for Brooklyn on her own, and made it back to her apartment with two hours to get ready. 

Carol was, as per usual, slightly later than planned, running only ten minutes behind but long enough for Therese to decide to put her hair up into a half bun instead of leaving it down. When Therese was about to walk out the door at 7:55, Lauren called after her. “Why can’t she come up and say hi?”

“Because you aren’t my mother?” It was times like these where Therese felt a mixture of gratefulness and resentment for her parental situation - or lack thereof. 

“Yes I am!” Lauren shouted back, but Therese was already halfway down the stairs. 

And, as always, Carol was a vision as she leaned against the post at the bottom of the stoop, sending a text but throwing her phone back into her bag the second she noticed Therese. Carol smiled, and apologized for being late, but that didn’t matter, and Therese told her as much before she kissed her. Then Carol’s eyes were fixated on something else. She followed Carol’s gaze behind her and up and up to the third floor window where Lauren and her other, more-absentee roommate Jasmine sat, halfway dangled out of it, sharing a cigarette. 

“Hi,” Lauren called down. “We’re Therese’s roommates.”

Carol waved up to them, looked back to Therese, and then back to Lauren and Jasmine. “I’m Carol.”

“We know.” This time Jasmine spoke. “Have her home by twelve.”

Lauren nodded her head and Carol laughed. “Oh, will she be grounded if she’s not?”

“Yeah.” They said it in unison. 

“Does twelve noon tomorrow work?”

“Sure, that works.” Lauren put out her cigarette on the side of the building beyond the window and then dropped it somewhere inside. “I like your outfit. Where do you get leopard print skinny jeans?”

Carol couldn’t answer because Jasmine began. “You know you can come here sometime? I mean, we know that you have, you know, _come_ here, but you can hang out too.” 

Clearly mortified, Carol buried her face in her hands, repeating “oh my god, oh my god,” under her breath and Lauren laughed.

“Yeah, just bring the wine. Well, that’s it, we’re going inside now. Bye, Carol.”

She still hadn’t recovered and waved limply in their general direction while Therese apologized profusely. “They’re bitches. I love them, but…”

“No, it’s fine. They’re cute.” Carol lifted her head and smiled at Therese. “In the same way the Siamese cats from _Lady and the Tramp_ are, you know?” She took a sharp breath in and shook her head. “Anyway, ready to go?”

Therese was more than ready. They were going to Soho, apparently to a restaurant Carol stressed that she hadn’t tried yet. It was sort of new, but not new enough for her to have never gone, and super popular, but she just hadn’t gotten around to it, “so don’t blame me if it sucks, but Abby goes nearly every week, and she’s very picky.”

Therese figured Carol wanted to go somewhere that didn’t make it seem like she knew everybody or was friends with the owners. It worked that way at first. They had to wait to sit, despite their reservation, and didn’t get to choose their table, but that wasn’t a problem, because waiting meant more time to spend with Carol, and every table was nice. The plan to have dinner undisturbed by one of Carol’s many close acquaintances worked well, too, for the first few minutes. They perused the menu together in peace, picking out a bunch of things to share, Carol asked, “you like oysters, right?” And then answered her own question, “you do. You ate like three the other day at work.” But then someone who wasn’t their server approached the table. 

“Carol Aird?”

She just looked up. The man was probably around her age, and blonde and tall with great teeth. 

“I’m Kevin Thompson. We don’t know each other. I’m the beverage director here. I just wanted to introduce myself.” 

Carol stood up and Therese could see the slightest flash of annoyance in her eyes. But she still shook his hand politely and he launched into conversation. About how he’d wanted to meet her and admired her work, he started talking about his own beverage program when Carol found an in-road to cut him off. 

“Kevin, this is my friend Therese.”

He acted as though he hadn’t even seen Therese, though it clearly wasn’t the case. Therese didn’t stand but shook his hand and wished that Carol’s grumpiness would leave when Kevin did and wouldn’t permeate the rest of the evening. Little fidgets made it clear to Therese that Carol was _done_ talking to Kevin - she probably had been before she’d started - but he didn’t pick up on them. He couldn’t, not without knowing her. She was doing her best to listen, but her responses had stopped venturing beyond “mhm,” and head nods, a raised eyebrow thrown in every now and then. Her left arm crossed her chest and her right hand was twisting the back to her earring. It was all Carol’s polite impatience that Therese observed countless times a night at work. He asked her about Abby’s wine dinner and if there was still room.

Carol laughed, not in a mocking way, but something close to it. “No way, she has people begging to join. Order more wine through her next year and maybe she’ll invite you without having to ask.”

There was only another minute or two and then Kevin left. He shook Carol’s hand in parting and threw Therese a, “great to meet you.” Carol sat back down, closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

Therese laughed. “You okay?”

“I’m just…so sorry.” Her eyes opened and met Therese’s. “I was trying to wrap that up but he just _kept going_. Also, _that_ \- ” She pointed to where Kevin once stood. “I hate that. He talked to me like you aren’t sitting right here. It’s so fucking rude. Who does that?”

But then their server came up to them with glasses of champagne on the house and Carol ate her words. “So, _I’m_ an asshole…” 

They ordered everything all at once, content with sharing everything and letting food come as it was ready. During the course of the conversation with Kevin, Carol must’ve ordered a bottle of wine because it one was brought to the table and opened, and then poured for Carol to try, but she pushed the tasting to Therese. 

“You tell me if you like it. I know that I will already, but it’s up to you.”

There was something intimidating and affectionate about the way Carol looked at her as she waited for Therese’s approval. She tried it, and nodded her head for the all-clear. 

“What is this?”

Their server chimed in, which Carol seemed to appreciate, and explained that it was a Friulano, a wine very high in acidity and light-bodied, and that it would - for the most part - go well with what they’d ordered. 

Therese decided there was nothing more enchanting than going to dinner with Carol. For one, though Carol herself might not have loved the attention she received from being well-known in the industry, Therese found it fascinating. Plus, talking to Carol was never boring, and Therese had managed to find ways to get her to talk about herself more and more, even if it was still like pulling teeth. But she managed. 

They were nearing the end of dinner when Therese noticed Carol anxiously drumming her fingers on the table. 

“So you know that wine dinner Kevin was asking about?” Therese nodded her head in confirmation and Carol rolled a piece of cavatelli back and forth with her fork, inspecting it before continuing. “Well, Abby, who you’ve met, is a distributor and importer - big family business, it’s amazing - and she has this dinner every year on the first Sunday of November. It’s just a ton of wine people, mostly, probably so she can convince us all to order more shit from her before the holidays. But I was wondering if…maybe you’d want to come with me?”

Across the table, Carol was looking toward Therese through the top of her eyes, head slightly bent as she cracked the knuckles on the fingers of her right hand with her thumb.

“Didn’t you just tell Kevin it was full?”

Carol’s face scrunched a little and her eyes rolled. “For him, yes, but not for me. Abby actually asked me if you were coming, so…”

Something was being said about Therese not needing to decide right now, because she’d have to take the night off of work (and they’d figure the excuse for that out later) and she’d understand if she didn’t want to miss out on the money, but Therese finally stopped her own silent gloat long enough to say, “of course I want to come.”

And Carol’s eyes flashed wide and she smiled. She also decided she didn’t want dessert anymore, she just wanted to go back to her place. Therese wasn’t allowed to pay for any of the check or the Lyft back, Carol said, “you can next time,” then added, “or something.” 

Back at Carol’s apartment, they opened another bottle of wine and just laid around and talked more on the sofa. At one point, when Therese was on her way to drunk, she noticed Carol just grinning at her and asked, “what?”

“Nothing. I’m just really happy when I’m around you.”

\-----

Once she shut the door behind Therese on Wednesday afternoon, Carol surveyed her surroundings. She’d been better about cleaning since Therese started coming over, while at the same time her own disorganization bothered her less and less. Her therapist pointed to this as Carol shifting her focus outward, instead of finding things for which to blame herself. In her worst moments, Carol would let laundry and dishes pile up, neglect to ever make her bed, leave mail untouched for weeks, and then find herself completely overwhelmed and self-loathing for letting it happen. Her mom had been the witness to too many of these times via tearful phone calls. 

That was something she needed to do before work: call her mom. 

Normally their conversations were regular, happening several times a week, and not always brief, like they had been for the past few weeks. Her mom would understand that she’d been busy, though. With work, of course. 

Carol sat on her sofa, feet on the coffee table, listening to one ring, then two, then three, then, “ _hello?_ ” Her mother answered the same way _every time_ despite the age of technology gifting her with the knowledge of who was calling. 

“Hi, mom.” Carol added a bit of guilt to her tone, knowing she’d been absentee as of late. 

“Hi, honey. What’s going on?”

There was a pause and then Carol scoffed. “What do you mean, ‘what’s going on?’”

Her mom laughed. “What do you mean, ‘what do I mean?’ I barely get more than ten minutes from you in the past two weeks and now _you’re_ calling _me_.”

This was true, and her mom didn’t sound hurt but maybe she was, just a little bit. “Nothing's going on. I’m sorry I’ve been so short on the phone lately. How are you? What are you up to?”

Her mom sighed and Carol could hear her shuffling around the house. _Oh, nothing_ was the short answer. She had the tree trimmers coming on Friday, the dog was annoying her so she let him outside, now he was “digging something up again,” and Rebecca and the kids were coming over Saturday. “What about you, sweetie?”

Carol sighed again, this one loud and dramatic. “Not too much. I’m just stalling before I have to get ready for work. I’ve just been so busy lately.”

She could hear her mom click her tongue before responding. “Is that all? Usually when you’re this busy with work, you call me nonstop.”

Her eyes rolled back into her head. Normally her mom let things slide, but this was not one of those things. 

“Well, I guess that’s not all.” She hesitated, waiting for her mom to prompt her answers with more questions, but it never came. And Carol knew it wouldn’t, because her mom would poke once, but not pry, afraid of retreat from either of her daughters. “I’ve sort of been seeing someone.”

There was a noise of quiet victory - an _mhm_ of sorts - and then her mom said, “okay...and this someone - does she have a name?”

“Her name is Therese.” _Therese, Therese, Therese_ : a name Carol never tired of saying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me all the feedback. All the comments. I live for them.
> 
> PS I’ll give you more of that phone conversation next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter of build-up. Take it or leave it but this is what you’re getting folks!

“ _Therese…_ why is that name so familiar?” 

Carol sighed, reminding her mom, “because you told me the only person you’d known with that name was a girl from France who did a foreign exchange program when you were in high school. You said she was mean.”

Her mom bit back, annoyed. “Okay, smart ass. I know that. But I’m trying to remember why I told you that recently.”

It was the stickers. Carol remembered. She’d talked to her mom the day after her birthday and mentioned the gift from “the new server, Therese.” Before Carol could respond, her mother’s memory was jogged, too. “ _Oh,_ she’s the girl who made you all of that stuff on your birthday. I see…”

There were more sounds of realization made and Carol squirmed in discomfort. This topic of conversation had never come super natural to her when it came to her mom, much to her mom’s dismay. It took a little while, at least. But things had to start somewhere. Her mom pointed out the obvious, that Carol worked with Therese, and was happy that Carol wasn’t letting her work dictate her life in that regard. 

“Okay, well, sort of…” Carol didn’t want to be completely dishonest about the situation. “We can’t actually tell anybody. I could get fired, mom.”

Her mom groaned, said that wouldn’t necessarily have to happen, and told Carol they couldn’t do that forever. As if Carol didn’t know that. And then she asked if she’d get to meet Therese when her and Carol’s dad visited in January. 

“Oh god, _stop_. You’re getting way too ahead of yourself. I don’t even know if we’re dating or just casually hanging out. Maybe she’s seeing other people besides me. I don’t know.” 

Carol left out the part where she would just about die if that were true. Plus, she couldn’t imagine how Therese would be seeing other people. They did spend a considerable amount of time together. But she didn’t want to make assumptions. Assumptions could lead to Carol scaring Therese away, and even if that didn’t seem plausible, she’d prefer having Therese in any capacity than none at all. 

When she told her mom that it had only been a month, her mom acted shocked, because usually after a month Carol was figuring out how she’d fit all of her furniture into someone else’s apartment. It was an exaggeration, but not totally off-base. And this time felt different - Carol actually liked Therese and not just the idea of her. Therese was much younger, too, and maybe not interested in a relationship. If that was the case, Carol wanted to put off the devastation from rejection for as long as possible. 

She could talk for hours about Therese, about her art, her constant thoughtfulness, her smile, where she was from, how she grew up, but she really did need to get ready for work. Before hanging up, her mom asked for Therese’s last name. 

About to answer, Carol stopped herself. “You are not looking her up on Instagram, mom. Because if you do and you accidentally ‘like’ one of her photos, you’ll only have one daughter because I’ll fling myself out of my window.”

“You’re on the third floor. I’ll find her through your follower list and take my chances.”

——

While mixing paint at the studio, Therese’s phone pinged with a notification. It was an email from Harge with both Carol and Jeanette CC’d. At first she wavered, afraid to open it, but it wasn’t anything bad. No, this was run-of-the-mill. She’d worked there nearly two months and it was apparently time to “check-in.” To see how things were going. So far, so good, Therese thought. All things considered.

Harge asked if she could come into work a half hour early on either Friday or Saturday. She texted Carol before replying, to see if she had a preference.

_I don’t care. Up to you._

Getting it over with seemed best, so she chose Friday.

Jeanette was running late, so only Harge and Carol sat in front of Therese at one of the tables in the empty dining room. They had been laughing about something when she came in and she hoped to death it didn’t concern her. Sitting across from Carol in this context felt strange. Just three nights ago, Carol had been underneath her with no clothes on, now she was put together and jotting something down on a notepad. She was wearing her glasses, which Therese appreciated.

There wasn’t much need to wait for Jeanette, Harge was telling Carol, because she’d emailed him any notes she had. He looked to Therese and smiled. “Let’s just get started!”

A slight smile spread across Carol’s face, and Therese was suddenly nervous, unable to read her. 

“So Therese,” Harge started, “first we want to hear from you: how are things going? Any complaints? Do you feel comfortable here?”

Carol smirked and added, “other than right now, of course. This is always _highly_ uncomfortable.”

The comment eased the stress of the situation a bit and Therese wondered if Carol would be so blunt with anyone else. She probably would, but Harge’s laughter made Therese think it wasn’t something Carol said every time. 

Not exactly begging to prolong things, Therese came up with something to say. “Well, I’m definitely liking it here. It was a little difficult at first - especially with, like, a week less of training - but I _think_ I’ve managed okay so far. Unless you guys think differently?”

Carol looked at Therese and rolled her eyes. That wasn’t work Carol, that was Therese’s Carol. For a second she forgot Harge was there until he spoke again. 

“Not at all, Therese. We’re quite happy with the fit, as well. We know you sometimes make comments about feeling like your sales are low compared to other servers…”

“But that will change with time.” Carol’s hand gave a dismissive wave. “Everyone else has at minimum a year on you. You’ll get to that point soon enough, should you stick around…”

“Which we hope you will.” Harge chimed back in and Therese found his and Carol’s back and forth entertaining. She remembered Carol once mentioning how well she knew Harge, just from working together or around one another for years, and this made that quite apparent. 

Harge kept going. “You’re on the more punctual end of the spectrum compared to your coworkers. I mean, you’re a solid five minutes late every day, but big picture, nothing serious.”

Therese felt her cheeks grow warm when Carol nodded in agreeance. To be fair though, Carol wasn’t the most timely person herself. And Therese couldn’t say it now, but she’d get her back later. They told Therese she handled pressure well, that it didn’t go unnoticed when she sold items they specifically asked servers to push on certain nights, Carol added that she sold bottles of wine “like a motherfucker,” and to work next on upselling.

The meeting was wrapping up when Harge suddenly turned to Carol. “Oh, the linen thing?”

“Oh, right.” Carol grabbed a folded napkin, shook it out, and handed it to Therese. “Fold this.”

It felt like a trap, and Therese hesitated before lying the linen on the table, smoothing it out, and folding it, bringing each side to the middle, flipping it, and doing the same with the other sides, running her hand over the creases to flatten them before folding it in half once more. 

“Told you.” It was said by Carol to Harge, then she looked to Therese. “So, you fold linens really well…and we want you to make your coworkers better at it.” Carol’s eyes closed momentarily and she swung her head toward Harge, adding, “it’s probably because she’s an _artist_.”

Harge nodded and raised his eyebrows. “Ah, yes, an artist.” For a second they all smiled, but Harge went on. “But then again so is Dannie, but his linens look like total shit. So you tell me.”

———

During service Saturday night, Therese realized something very disappointing about the wine dinner next weekend that Carol clearly hadn’t thought through. She brought it up to Carol before leaving, shutting Carol’s office door to discuss.

“I can’t go to Abby’s wine dinner, Carol.”

Carol stopped counting the money Therese had given her and looked up, her expression a muted sadness. “Oh…okay. That’s fine. I understand.”

She didn’t though, and Therese continued. “Jack will be there.”

Expecting a connection to be made, Therese was surprised when Carol wasn’t quite getting it. “Right, I’ll have Jack to hang out with. It’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it, Therese.” And she was back to counting money.

“No, I mean, that’s why I can’t go. _Jack will be there.”_

When Carol looked up, her eyes searched Therese’s face, taking a minute to come to understanding. “Wait, you mean because he’ll find out about us?” Then Carol laughed. “No. Jack _knows._ I kind of told him. Well, not kind of. I did.”

This explained a lot. Mostly involving Jack’s behavior toward Therese. But why Carol had told Jack was now the question. When she asked, Carol recoiled a bit, still smiling but not rushing to explain herself.

“It’s kind of embarrassing.” She paused, clearly hoping Therese would give her an out. But that wasn’t going to happen. “Remember the day Dannie made that comment about you going home with Gen?”

Of course she did. It was horrible though the next day was anything but. She nodded.

Carol sighed. “I was just visibly upset after that, and didn’t even acknowledge him when I passed him going to my office. So he came and found me and I just told him what had happened. That I thought you and Gen hooked up and that I liked you. Of course, when I was suddenly in a great mood all of the time he knew something must’ve happened and he eventually guessed.”

_Oh._

Therese sucked her lips in and then breathed out and somehow Carol held her gaze the entire time.

“So are you still not coming? Because I already sent out the schedule.”

She would hate to inconvenience Carol and make her redo next week’s schedule. She told Carol no, of course she was going to come, and Carol was still staring and her, smirking. Then she curled a finger to beckon Therese closer so she could kiss her before she left.

——-

They hadn’t made specific plans to hang out on Tuesday, but Therese sort of just assumed they would. Last weekend had Carol busier than usual, and they hadn’t been able to see each other outside of work. Therese let Tuesday morning and most of the afternoon go by before texting her, still letting lingering nerves keep her from coming off as too eager. All she asked was what Carol was up to that night, and she got a quick reply asking what Therese had in mind. Nothing in particular was the honest answer, so she just suggested they smoke weed, order food, and watch a movie. 

Seconds later, her phone rang. 

“Hey, what’s up?”

It was Carol. “Okay, I’m absolutely into this idea, but I’m just letting you know now that my throat is super sore - I might be getting sick, I don’t know, but I’m being a huge baby about it. Also, I’m on my period so we’re going to have to actually just Netflix and chill, and not ‘ _Netflix and chill_.’ Sorry.”

None of that was an issue for Therese. She had some possible solutions to the last part, but she wasn’t going to push it. Not yet, anyway. And if Carol didn’t feel good, she’d let her determine things. 

“That’s fine. Just come over whenever. I just got home from the studio, so I’ll be around.”

Before hanging up, Carol added that she would bring her vape pen, not wanting to risk the harshness of the smoke on her throat, and that she’d been running errands all day and looked “like shit, but I don’t feel like putting on a bunch of makeup, so you’ll get what you get.”

That was also more than fine, because Therese was sure Carol at her worst was the same as nearly everyone else looking their best. She busied herself with tidying up her apartment while she waited for Carol to arrive, making her bed, washing whatever dishes were in the sink. Normally Therese would fuss more with her hair and makeup and clothes, but she didn’t want to make Carol feel awkward if she put in too much effort. All there was left to do was sit and wait. And move the coffee table to the left because it was off-center. And wipe the dust off the lightbulb on the lamp next to the sofa. And pick lint from the rug. Finally Carol arrived and saved Therese from turning her entire apartment upside down. 

Carol was right, she didn’t look like herself, but she still looked beautiful. When Therese told her that, Carol narrowed her eyes and said, “oh god, I do not.” Before she could look away, Therese put her hands on her face with her fingers behind her ears and thumbs on her cheeks. She could feel Carol’s pulse quicken where her pinky grazed over her neck. Therese wondered if it was because of her or the stairs she’d just walked up.

She took her hands from Carol’s cheeks and ran them over her collar bones. Carol might’ve actually been a little sick, because she felt warm. And Therese decided to do something unusual and wrap her arms around Carol’s waist and lie her hands on her back and hug her. It was strangely the most intimate thing she’d done with Carol. She’d had her mouth on just about every square inch of Carol’s body, but hugging Carol felt much more personal. Especially because neither of them were the hugging type. 

It took a few seconds, but Carol finally put her arms around Therese’s neck and let her face fall into her shoulder.

Staying like that forever was an enticing option. Therese rubbed up and down Carol’s spine slowly and could feel Carol lean on her more. 

“You okay?” She meant beyond the obvious, of course. 

“I’m way better now.”

Though staying like that forever was what Therese preferred, she’d also just scolded Carol via text when she mentioned on her way over that she’d only eaten a protein bar that day, and felt obligated to feed her. She moved them over to the couch and they decided to scroll through Grubhub and hit Carol’s vape. 

“Don’t hit it too hard, it sneaks up on you.”

It was no lie, and even Carol choked and wound up in a fit of coughs and laughter, between which she squeaked out, “oh no, I’m going to be so high.”

Figuring out where to get food delivered from was not an easy task. Because Carol had _opinions_. Every place Therese listed off was met with a series of rejections ranging from a passive, “no,” to a combative, “hell no. What is wrong with you?” 

“Kings Co. Imperial?”

There it was. Carol’s head perked up. “Do they deliver to you?”

“Yes.”

“That. That’s what I want.”

Therese’s sigh of relief didn’t go unnoticed, and Carol looked guilty. “I’m sorry for being so difficult.”

But Therese was far from bothered, because the longer it took for them to pick out dinner, the later dinner would arrive, and the later Carol would stay. Therese hoped she would stay the night, but wasn’t counting on it. She just tickled Carol’s knee and placed their order, happy that for once she could pay and Carol couldn’t do a thing to stop her. She tried, asking how much it was so she could Venmo Therese, but Therese shook her head. 

Somehow they found themselves watching _Chopped_ while waiting for their food. With Carol’s head laid in her lap, Therese would’ve been thrilled to watch static. She played with Carol’s hair and they took turns hypothesizing what they’d do with the ingredients each round. Not much of a cook, Therese was always at a loss. But Carol definitely was not.

“Use the blood orange candy, melt it down, and combine it with miso and lemon to glaze the black cod. Broil it. Use the pickle _juice_ for a vinaigrette. Make the kohlrabi into a slaw by shaving it down and adding carrot. Combine with the vinaigrette, throw it on the fish.”

Therese just stared down at her. “Are you a really great cook or something?”

Carol was only half paying attention to her own answer, distracted by the show. “I am. I also just watch a lot of this with my friends.”

The part about Carol being a great cook was news to Therese. She’d made her toast before, and eggs once or twice, and it was all fantastic, but that wasn’t a great tell. Therese tugged in her hair to get her attention. “When are you going to cook for me then?”

“I’m not _that_ good. You aren’t missing out on anything.” Carol’s cheeks were slightly pink, though. Therese almost replied, about to challenge her, but Carol was saved by the bell and Therese hopped up from the sofa to retrieve their food.

They ate and talked and Carol was right, mapo tofu was good and Therese could learn to like tofu. And there was a moment when Carol was telling Therese about running cross country in college, and how it was the only thing she might have felt she missed out on when she dropped out, that something inside Therese clicked. And she realized she loved Carol. 

She loved the way Carol looked into her take-out box and used her chopsticks to sift through the contents before taking a bite. She loved how Carol sat on the floor with one leg straight and the other bent at the knee. She loved Carol’s eyes when they looked at hers and then away quickly, maybe shyly. She loved listening to Carol - she’d listen to her read the dictionary if it meant hearing her voice. She loved her hair, how it looked splayed out on a pillow or how it felt in her fingers. She loved Carol’s style, her taste in music, her dedication to her job. She just _fucking loved Carol._ She was _in-love_ with Carol.

And she sure as fuck wasn't going to say anything about it anytime soon like some sort of psychopath.

Instead, she let Carol choose a movie while she put away their abundance of leftovers. But Carol wanted Therese’s input, and they put on _Vertigo_ because Halloween was the next day and Hitchcock seemed fitting. Therese resumed her earlier position of sitting with Carol’s head in her lap, but it only lasted fifteen minutes. 

“Lay with me.” Carol was already shifting to make room for Therese next to her. When Therese was flat on her back, Carol laid between her and the back of the couch, on her side, propped up on her elbow. “I like this.”

Therese smiled. “Me too.”

They watched in silence for a while until Jasmine’s cat wandered out of her bedroom and jumped on Therese. Carol was floored.

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” She was petting her enthusiastically and Therese hated to burst her bubble.

“I don’t, she’s my roommate’s cat. Her name is Butter. I’m pretty lukewarm on cats.” Butter was cute though.

Carol scoffed, but still wasn’t done with Butter. “How are you even - ” Carol started and then changed course. “Oh that’s right. You aren’t a lesbian. You fuck dudes.”

Now Therese scoffed back, surprised and a little offended at Carol’s prissy tone. “And is that some sort of problem for you?”

Butter stopped being pet and jumped down from the couch. Carol lost her front and her confidence wilted. “No. Of course not.”

Therese felt a little bad and considered that Carol’s comment could’ve - _maybe, possibly_ \- come from a place of jealousy. Misplaced as it might’ve been. Carol didn’t say sorry, but she looked it, and Therese pulled on the neckline of her shirt to bring her closer. “Hey, it’s okay.”

When they kissed, Carol sighed heavily, like she was letting out a breath she’d been holding for too long. When she pulled her head back, she didn’t go back to resting herself on her elbow, opting to lay on Therese’s chest instead. Therese loved it. The movie became mostly background while Therese watched Carol watching it and then watched Carol fall asleep. She slept so easily and so early. 

The movie ended and Therese waited for the credits to finish before waking Carol up and dragging her to the bathroom to get ready for bed. She handed her a toothbrush when they stood in front of the sink. “Sorry, pink is your only option.”

But Carol smiled anyway, really wide. It was a big reaction for just a toothbrush. 

In Therese’s bed, Carol curled into Therese like she had on the couch, but this wasn’t the couch, this was a bed and there was plenty of room for them to spread out on separate sides like they usually did, but this wasn’t like usual. Not for Therese. Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment or I’ll stop writing. Just kidding, but please and thank you.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is largely unedited, mostly because I was eager to post it. It's been a week, and for me, that's like years. I'm hoping you haven't forgotten about me.

Truthfully, Carol was pretending to be asleep. She had been for about five minutes now. But Therese was running her fingers through her hair while her head was resting on Therese’s chest and she really didn’t want that to end. It was the kind of stuff she laid awake at night thinking about. Having that. Every day. 

But she also really needed water, so she forced her eyes open and turned her head to look up toward Therese. “How long have you been awake?”

Therese looked perfect in the morning. 

“Only twenty minutes. It’s only nine, you can keep sleeping if you want.”

A compelling offer, but she did want to spend more time with Therese until one of them had to leave. “No, we should get up. Sorry I fell asleep so early last night.”

It couldn’t have been later than 11pm when they’d made their way to Therese’s bed. Her roommates weren’t even home yet, but they must’ve been now because Carol could hear voices coming from the kitchen. Therese said something about it being fine, because she had been tired, too, and then mentioned getting coffee. 

“Yes, please. Let me just put my clothes on and something resembling makeup.” For whatever reason, Carol had thought to bring makeup but not a change of clothes. The ones she wore yesterday would have to do. 

“Wait, hang on.” Therese grazed over hangers in her closet, and then pulled out some Adidas joggers that tapered at the ankle. “You can wear these, if you want. Instead of your dirty clothes. They’re a little longer than they should be on me so they’ll probably fit you.”

Therese was right, they fit pretty well. Carol liked them, and immediately started thinking of ways to not return them for as long as possible. 

The walk from Therese’s bedroom door to her front door wasn’t without commentary from her roommates, not that Carol had expected different, and they teased her about not knowing she’d been there this time, unlike how very aware they’d been the last time. Therese gave some snippy but endearing response and dragged Carol out of the apartment. When they reached the sidewalk outside, a woman and a child wearing a backpack dressed as a pumpkin passed by. Carol had forgotten it was Halloween. Not that she ever cared. Maybe Therese did though.

They walked in the direction of coffee and Carol asked, “so are you doing anything tonight?”

A couple seconds passed before Therese responded. “Yeah, I’m supposed to go to this party with Gen. Her friend Nina’s. In Bed-Stuy. I was going to hang out with Dannie but he’s working.”

Oh, right. Carol had scheduled him to work and hadn’t scheduled Gen. And now Therese was going to hang out with Gen. At a party thrown by - “wait, Nina who?”

Carol realized she’d interrupted Therese, who had been talking about usually being excited for Halloween but not so much this year. “I don’t know. She sent me the Facebook event though. Hang on.” They slowed their pace while Therese clicked and scrolled and then came up with an answer. “Nina Epstein.”

Just as Carol suspected. She nodded and smiled, mostly to herself, from the satisfaction of being right. “ _Nina Epstein_ …I almost forgot her and Gen are friends now.” 

Carol has noticed they followed each other on Instagram a while back. She didn’t know how they met, but she had a few ideas.

“Do you know her or something?”

 _Or something._ “We dated. For three years.”

Wide eyes met Carol’s when she looked at Therese, who’d stopped in her tracks. “ _Three years?_ ”

Three long years that Carol was never getting back. She tried keeping the explanation brief - not able to tell if Therese was suddenly skeptical of her - the portrait of a former serial monogamist now being painted in full - or if her shock came from a different place, like jealousy. 

Carol wanted to offer some sort of clarification. “It was a really long time ago. I couldn’t have been much older than you when we broke up. It was a horrible relationship too. She hated that I was a server and bartender and thought I was going nowhere. She used to be a teacher but now she’s throwing a party on a Wednesday night so…” She had to stop herself, because she didn’t want to ruin the night that Therese had planned. 

A minute of silence went by until Therese spoke. “I can’t believe you dated her for three years.” 

Out of the side of her eye, Carol could see Therese looking through Nina’s Facebook. “I know, neither can I.”

She looked up from her phone and shook her head. “She’s not even that cute.”

Carol laughed, thankful Therese was still on her side. “I know, right? Long time ago, babe. My taste has refined _considerably_ since then.” She poked Therese’s side, content to let Therese pass judgement if it meant her feeling the same pangs of bitterness that Carol felt when she thought about Therese with anybody else. 

\-----

Most years, Therese loved Halloween. She was great at coming up with costumes. But usually she did so in tandem with Dannie, and this year he was working, which he didn’t mind much. His brother wouldn’t be throwing the party he was known for, which left plans hanging loosely until their work schedule had been made. It left Therese finding herself being roped into plans with Gen. She was curious to meet this Nina person who Carol had dated for so long, but the situation was more odd than it could’ve been, given her closeness to Carol unknown to Gen. 

A couple hours before she was set to meet with Gen, still costumeless - Gen called with an idea. “You have that, like, short-sleeved denim dress, right?”

Therese did, yes, and Gen continued. “Okay, I have a similar one. Let’s wear those, I’ve got pink ribbon, add white knee socks, a headband…”

“The twins from _The Shining?_ ” It was actually a great plan, given their lack of time and effort.

“Bingo. See you at 10.”

After spending time in the studio, Therese was in dire need of a shower. While meticulously painting strand after strand of blonde hair, she’d managed to get paint into her own hair, and thus her neck. Her arms and, of course, fingers were a different story altogether. 

Gen came by, and they got ready and did their makeup and walked over and the party was _fine._ It was crowded and loud. Therese met Nina, still confused as to how her and Carol were ever a thing. And Nina was apparently now a bartender herself. Before she could ask what happened with teaching, Therese bit her tongue, stopping herself from revealing information that she shouldn’t know. It wasn’t hard to figure out though - the pay was probably far better and the stress didn’t have to be taken home at night. 

Two things happened when Gen got too drunk: she posted everything to Instagram - though that had started hours ago - and she hit on everybody. Her first target was Therese, and once she picked up on the hint that it wouldn’t be happening, she wandered off to find a new object of affection. There was something boring and sceney about everyone at Nina’s, and once Gen was out of sight, Therese used it as an excuse to leave.

\-----

Four steps into work on Thursday, Gen pulled Therese aside by the shoulder. 

“Okay, don’t you think it’s ridiculous that Carol scheduled a polisher today and Sunday, plus another food runner?”

Therese hadn’t thought about it. Though she understood what Gen was trying to say: they only had a glass polisher scheduled Fridays and Saturdays most weeks, and extra staff meant more people to tip out. But she couldn’t imagine it would amount to much less money on either of their paychecks. She didn’t pay much attention to the schedule beyond her own, either. 

“I guess? I don’t know.” It was all Therese could think to say. 

As if summoned by the mention of her name, Carol appeared from around the corner. She was walking with one of the hostesses, going over reservations. Therese didn’t have time to stop Gen before she rushed over to Carol, leaving Therese to follow in her wake. 

“Hey, Carol. Question for you.”

Carol looked up from the paper she was holding and handed it to the hostess, sending her on her way. 

“What’s up?” Her eyes went from Gen to Therese and then back to Gen. Therese wanted to back away, to have no part in Gen’s complaints, but it was too late move. 

“Why are you putting on so much extra support staff for a Thursday? It’s an extra six points in the tip pool and we’ll all make less money. You didn’t even ask if we would be okay with it.”

There wasn’t a time that Therese wanted to sink directly into the floor more than now. She closed her eyes, hoping when they’d open, she wouldn’t be anywhere near this situation. That wasn’t the case, much to her dismay. Instead, she saw Carol’s arms cross and her jaw shift, and Therese braced herself for an argument. 

But that didn’t happen. Carol said, “you know what? You’re right. I’d hate to make it so you all make less money tonight.”

Even Gen was taken aback. “Really?”

Carol continued. “Really. So enjoy your night off, Gen. You’re cut. Now that’s ten points less in the tip pool.”

Not one to go without the last word, Gen recovered from her shock enough to scoff, and muttered something about it being “fucking bullshit,” while she wandered into the back to go downstairs and collect her belongings. Therese was still standing in front of Carol, taking as much time as possible to crane her head back to look at her. Carol was staring with the same crossed arms and hardened eyes. 

“Is there something I can help _you_ with?”

Carol was mad. Or upset. And Therese felt so small. 

She swallowed. “No.”

With a curt nod to her head, Carol bit back, “good answer,” and walked away. 

All night Therese avoided Carol, only speaking to her when absolutely necessary, and finding every excuse to keep things brief. Carol still seemed agitated, but her professionalism never faltered. When the night ended and Therese was getting ready to check out and leave, she entered Carol’s office with caution. Without looking up from her computer, Carol held out her hand, waiting for Therese’s cash and receipts. She must not have expected Therese to shut the door behind herself when she walked in, because that got her attention. She met her gaze but didn’t say a word, making Therese be the first one to talk. 

“Are you punishing Gen because you’re upset that I went to that party with her last night or something?” Therese should’ve known to keep that thought to herself.

Carol’s head jolted in disbelief. “Do you honestly think, even if I was upset, I’d do that? No, Therese. I’m punishing Gen because she was and continues to be disrespectful to me. I should write her up but believe it or not, I’m not interested in her losing her job. But she needs to know she can’t talk to me the way she does.”

Feeling her cheeks get red, Therese covered her eyes and started apologizing. “I know, I know. I don’t know why I said that, I’m sorry. Maybe I just wanted that to be the case.” 

Not knowing why she said _that_ either, Therese started correcting herself again and Carol grew amused, and asked, “you wanted me to be upset that you were at my ex-girlfriend’s party with Gen last night?”

“No, that’s not it. Please just ignore me. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Probably feeling Therese’s discomfort, Carol backed down, and her grin stopped its teasing. 

“I’ll forgive you if you come over tomorrow before work and we can get lunch or coffee or something.” 

Therese knew what that meant - that they wouldn’t just be getting lunch - and Therese had no complaints about that.

——

The instructions for Sunday had Therese meeting Carol at Carol’s apartment. They’d have a drink there first and then walk over to the restaurant where Abby was having her dinner, because it was only blocks away, evidently something for which Carol had strongly advocated. Therese had done exactly nothing with her day, unless waiting around until it was time to start getting ready counted for something. She put on the same dress she’d worn the first time her and Carol had gone to dinner, because Lauren had practically given it to her and she hadn’t worn it since. The weather had cooled, but not enough for a wool coat, so Therese threw on a raincoat before heading out the door. 

Unsurprisingly, Carol was still getting ready when Therese came over. Carol buzzed her in and then left the door to her apartment ajar for Therese to let herself in. She followed the sounds of a hairdryer to Carol’s bathroom, where Carol was bent at the waist drying the underside of her hair. She must’ve seen Therese’s feet, because when she popped up she wasn’t startled by her presence. 

Carol turned off the dryer and unplugged it. “Hey, sorry. I’m done now. Hi.” She kissed Therese quickly, gathered her hair into a messy topknot, and glanced into the mirror. “Whatever.”

Though Carol had said it to herself, Therese responded. “You look fantastic.”

Never one to take a compliment easily, Carol’s smile was skeptical, but she still thanked Therese and walked them into the living room. “Here, sit down and give me your coat. What do you want to drink? We’ll keep it light because we’re about to have _several_ more tonight. Unless you’re dying for a martini or something, in which case, more power to you.”

Therese loved sitting on Carol’s sofa, watching her move throughout her apartment. “Bartender’s choice.” 

“Hmm, okay.” Carol studied her for a moment and then turned to the dark wood credenza where she kept her liquor. What Therese hadn’t realized was that the sliding doors revealed even more bottles. It was like a collection. 

“Holy shit, Carol.” 

Not understanding Therese’s surprise, Carol looked back at her, concerned. “What?”

“No, nothing. You just have, like, a full bar and then some in there.” It was impressive. Some bottles sat still unopened, while others were just about finished - those seemed to sit on the top of the credenza. A frequently used section, of sorts. 

Tonight Carol brought out an olive green-tinted bottle with a white label. “This is a Japanese whiskey and it’s made from rice. It isn’t scotchy like most Japanese whiskeys tend to be, which makes this particular one - ” she paused and held the bottle up to Therese’s nose, “here, smell it. Kind of smells like almonds.” She poured the whiskey into glasses and then added soda water. “This particular one is good with just soda, because drinking it on it’s own doesn’t really hold up, but the fruit-qualities taste great with carbonation.”

Therese could watch Carol do this all day. She could watch Carol do anything all day. Dry her hair, putz around her apartment, make drinks, talk about making drinks. Finally Carol joined her on the couch, kissing Therese before handing over her drink. Carol explained where they were going tonight, who would be there - some people she liked, others she simply tolerated - and then asked Therese about her day, listening closely despite Therese’s mundane answers. Suddenly, Carol remembered something and jumped up from her seat, disappearing into her bedroom. When she sat back down, she was holding something behind her back. 

“I have a present for you.” One of Carol’s eyebrows raised as she smiled at Therese, but her eyes searched back and forth. 

“A present? Carol. No.” 

Carol’s grin wavered as she rolled her head from side to side, looking away before continuing. “Yes. It’s nothing crazy, I was just thinking about you. Well, I was thinking about _wine_ actually. Shocking, I know. See, the particular vintage I was looking at didn’t really offer a huge array of wines that are exceptional to drink today. And I almost gave up, but I figured, finding something that stands out - that’s just _so_ special - was only fitting. Because you, Therese, can’t possibly be the _only_ great thing to come out of 1993.” 

And then Carol brought out the arm from behind her back and handed Therese a bottle of wine from 1993. She looked away and kept talking. 

“It’s just interesting because the year you were born, those grapes were harvested and bottled. But you’ve done so much in 25 years and that wine has just sat in that same bottle, probably not even moving from place to place much. And now here you both are.” 

Therese still couldn’t find the words, and just sort of gaped at the bottle and then up at Carol whose face was slightly flushed.

“Anyway, it’s a white Burgundy from Cotes de Beaune. I think you’ll love it.”

There was nothing to think about. “I already do. This is too nice, Carol. I don’t know what to say.”

“Well…I’m just glad you like it.” But they should get going, Carol added, and Therese asked her to hang on to the wine for her, so they could open it together another time, even though Carol insisted it was hers to have whenever she wanted, Carol or no Carol. Therese couldn’t imagine enjoying it with anyone else, though. They left the bottle on the coffee table along with their empty glasses and headed out and down the stairs.

It only took ten minutes to get to the restaurant. Before walking through the door, Carol kissed Therese and smiled and said, “thanks for coming with me tonight,” and then headed inside without letting Therese say a word in response. When she checked in, it was for “Abby Gerhard’s thing,” and the hostess denoted to someone else, a manager seemingly, who started walking them to the back. 

“You’re Carol Aird right? The beverage director at Ma Moitié?”

Carol’s arms crossed as she nodded her head and confirmed, but she was pleased when he looked expectantly at Therese. 

“Oh, this is my girlfriend Therese. She also works at Ma Moitié.”

If there was air in the room, Therese had no idea. Whatever this man’s name was, the one currently shaking her hand, Therese would never be able to recall. She might black out for the rest of the night. Then she watched as Carol’s smile fell slightly and her eyes briefly grew wide and shocked before recovering, and turning once again to the manager. “Sorry, what were you asking?”

He repeated himself but Therese didn’t listen. She was busy replaying the previous twenty seconds over and over again in her head.

They reached the private dining room and Therese was amazed she’d made it. Had she moved her feet or simply floated the entire way? There were a couple handfuls of people already there - Therese recognized Justin from that wine bar Carol had taken her to. Everybody was drinking sparkling something and Abby spun by and gave them a quick greeting, thrusting a glass into Therese’s hand before reprimanding Carol. 

“When I say come early, I didn’t mean Carol-early.”

Carol rolled her eyes and glanced at Therese. Five minutes before 8pm seemed like a feat considering Carol’s usual schedule. Therese watched as Carol talked to Abby - bickering, sort of - and sipped her wine and then said, “Egly?” and Abby nodded back. 

“Hey Therese, I’m going to borrow Carol for just a second.”

Before Abby dragged her to the other side of the room, Carol mouthed “sorry,” and winked at Therese. As far as Therese was concerned, Carol could kill a person in front of her tonight and she’d still be on cloud fucking nine. 

Suddenly very aware of a person to her left side, Therese looked over. The woman had long red hair and full lips and round eyes and Therese had seen her somewhere before - in a picture or two with Carol. 

“You must be Therese.”

There was no stopping the smile that crawled across her lips. “I am.”

The woman held out her hand and Therese shook it. “I’m Alexandra, Abby’s wife. I feel like we should get to know one another.”

Alexandra made it clear that she wasn’t going to spare Carol by being subtle - first with that introduction and then by telling Therese that she felt like she already did know her, because Carol “won’t shut the fuck up about you.” She said it with a smirk, though, and Therese could tell she was happy about it. There was some laughter around Therese trying to remember what Alexandra did for a living - Abby had mentioned it, a comptroller - and Alexandra corrected her. “Not even my own wife can get it right: I’m a _con_ troller, not a _comp_ troller. A corporate controller. There were enough jokes about it when I was promoted that you’d think either of them would remember.”

It was nice having Alexandra there - it was another person who wasn’t in the wine industry for Therese to talk to. Plus she was extremely friendly, and made Therese feel like she really was excited to meet her. 

Jack showed up eventually and found Therese first. “Ready to get hammered?”

Given the setting and the wine and the obvious expense of the entire night, Therese hadn’t really thought about that being the outlook for the evening. “Is that what’s going to happen?”

Both Jack and Alexandra nodded emphatically, surprised at Therese’s question. 

“God, yes. Abby has eight wines - not counting that champagne - to pour. Three ounces, mind you, but even so.” Alexandra shook her head a little and then added, “I blacked out last year. To be fair, everyone else here drinks for a living, so it can be hard to keep up.”

Carol was back, and asked what they were talking about. Therese just asked her if she was going to die tonight, and Carol told her if she did, to please get someone to cover her shift tomorrow. “In all seriousness though, you’ll be fine.”

Somehow Abby managed to corral everyone into their seats, because it was now well after 8pm and surely the restaurant wanted them to get going so they could as well. Including herself, Therese counted 18 people, and thought about having to share her time with Carol with 16 other people. At least there was Jack, and now Alexandra, and Justin was nearby and they were acquainted enough for small talk. Once everyone stopped talking, Abby made a short speech about the wines they’d drink that night: something about underrated regions of France, Alsace was overshadowed by Germany, Loire Valley deserved more attention too, and Therese tried to keep up, but eventually tuned out. When Abby and a sommelier from the restaurant started pouring everyone glasses of whatever they were drinking first, Therese noticed Carol wasn’t listening either, because she was just staring at Therese. 

That was how most of the night went, too, and Therese found she didn’t need to share her time with Carol, because Carol was hardly interested in talking to anybody else. Sometimes Jack would be included when their conversation drifted to work, but for the better half of the night Therese and Carol could’ve just as well been in a room full of strangers. It took until the bottom of the sixth pour of wine for Therese to recognize she was, in fact, pretty drunk. Maybe it had been the nervousness of the evening that kept her on high-alert, but it felt strangely good to let the alcohol get to her head so she could relax. 

The fourth course was cleared and there was dessert, and more wine, and soon Therese was laughing with Jack about how bad Richard’s band was and giving her card to Justin’s friend Max, who was working with a team of people to open a new restaurant, and they were looking for possible logo designs. It was all over too soon - Therese liked knowing she could fit in with Carol’s friends. People were getting up to leave and Carol went to say goodbye to someone named Helen when Abby grabbed Therese’s arm. Even the master of ceremonies herself seemed beyond tipsy.

“You know, Carol’s never brought anybody to one of these before. Besides Jack, but, he doesn’t count.” She was slurring her words slightly, but aware enough to lower her voice so Carol didn’t hear. “I like you for her. She’s never been this happy.” 

Abby just patted her shoulder and walked away, her abrupt ending noticed by Alexandra, who, through laughter, got up to say goodbye. Therese didn’t have the chance to bid anymore farewells, because Carol just grabbed her by the hand and pulled her out of the room, through the restaurant, and out onto the sidewalk. She sighed loudly into the nighttime air. 

“That was fun, but exhausting. How are you? Did you have fun?” She was looking back and forth at either of Therese’s eyes, and then ahead as she grabbed her hand again to walk toward her building. 

“I had so much fun. Thanks for taking me.” It was cold outside, but Therese didn’t want to quicken their leisurely pace. 

Carol was smiling again, like she had been for most of the night. “I’m glad you came with me.” 

Remembering Abby’s words before they left, and emboldened by the abundance of alcohol coursing through her bloodstream, Therese brought something up. “So…you called me your girlfriend earlier.”

Their walk stopped for half a second before resuming, and Carol swallowed, not looking anywhere near Therese. “Oh, right. Sorry about that. I know we didn’t talk about it or anything. It just seemed like an easier explanation in the moment. It’s absolutely okay if you’re seeing other people.”

That wasn’t the answer Therese wanted, and she pushed further. “You’d be okay with me seeing other people?”

Then Carol stopped walking, and found Therese’s gaze. “Well, I have no right to tell you otherwise.”

It still wasn’t what Therese wanted to hear. “But how would you feel if I was?”

Carol looked down. “Horrible.” Without looking up she added, “are you?”

Therese hadn’t thought about this prying for an answer giving Carol the wrong idea, but it clearly had, and Therese had to hastily correct herself. “Of course not. Are you?” But Therese suspected she knew the answer. 

“No. Why would I want to spend my time with anyone else when I could just be with you?”

And those were the words Therese had wanted from Carol and she prayed that Carol would still remember them when they woke up in her bed in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I busted my _ass_ to get this chapter up (albeit, it's severed in half, but Jesus would it be long otherwise), I require the same enthusiasm out of you guys that the last chapter got. That shit was great. More comments, please.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise. Here ya go. Because I love you all.
> 
> Note: sorry this one is short.

The restless sleep and unintentional early waking that excessive drinking caused always seemed like an unnecessary cruelty to Carol. As if being hungover the next day wasn’t punishment enough. It was always tougher to be alone. It caused more anxiety for Carol. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know Therese was there, because her hair always smelled like mint from whatever shampoo it was that she used. Carol’s face was buried in Therese’s hair and she was pretty sure Therese was still sleeping. 

Recalling events from the previous night felt similar to remembering a dream. But instead, as sleep got farther away, unlike a dream, the memories became more and more vivid. Everything from the night before was clear until about two-thirds of the way through dinner. She remembered Abby being Abby and insisting upon sharing with Therese that, not only had Abby and Carol met through Carol’s first restaurant job in New York, but about two weeks into her employment, Abby saw her at Henrietta Hudson’s, “wearing a Kate Bush ‘Hounds of Love’ shirt and holding court by a pool table like she wasn’t completely underage.” That had been thanks to her sister’s old driver’s license. Therese had laughed at the story - and at Carol, pointing out that she still had that t-shirt in her closet. Carol had given herself a pat on the back for cluing Therese in on her and Abby’s very brief, very misguided, “very baby-dyke” sexual relationship well before the wine dinner, not wanting to hide it and make it seem secretive had it come up. 

Even Jack had taken his turn offering up embarrassing Carol stories (it seemed to be the theme of the dinner, which was funny, given Carol had sworn the theme was overlooked regions of France). His contribution involved Carol having a meltdown in the back alley behind the restaurant two years ago - Chef had yelled at her about wine costs and she was so upset that she whipped four wine glasses at the brick of the building behind theirs. And then she made Jack clean them up. It hadn’t been her finest of moments. But even as the stories kept coming, they hadn’t scared Therese away. 

Later _later_ in the night, just before the dinner had wrapped up, Carol watched as Therese engrossed herself in conversation with Justin and Alexandra and Max. And it meant everything to her. Abby leaned down from behind Carol and spoke closely, telling Carol that, “it’s like all those years - when you could’ve brought Cassie or Taylor or Cynthia and didn’t - were leading to this.” Abby loved saying things like that to Carol and then walking away, leaving before Carol had the chance to cheapen the moment or kill the sentiment with cynicism. 

And then there was, of course, outside of the restaurant, when Therese called Carol out for her slip-up at the beginning of the night, when she’d called Therese her girlfriend. As soon as it had left Carol’s mouth, she wished she could grab it out of the air and swallow back inside. She had said it countless times before then - _in her head._ Practiced it and imagined it was real. And then she used the word without consulting Therese, and hoped it would be, at worst, forgotten about so Carol could at least go back to daydreaming. 

But often Therese made Carol think she should doubt less. Quit doubting Therese and quit doubting herself. It had been a long time (if ever) since Carol had felt so safe with someone. Like even if the relationship didn’t go the way Carol wanted it to, she’d never thought Therese would make her feel bad about it, because Therese didn’t hurt people intentionally. She avoided hurting. Carol loved that about her. She wasn’t certain she could say the same about herself. But one thing she knew was that she’d never intentionally hurt Therese. 

Not counting the hangover she’d absolutely have from the wine dinner. But that could be pinned on Abby. 

Everything was too bright at 9am, even with the curtains closed. The last thing Carol wanted to do was peel herself from Therese’s body, but she loosened her grip of Therese’s waist and swung her leg from where it rested over Therese’s own, found some sort of clothing on the floor that would suffice for walking around her apartment, and made her way to the kitchen. 

The case of Gatorade in her fridge wasn’t only there because she was a runner - it also worked for hangovers. She didn’t need it as much as she used to when she first started in the wine industry, but every once in a while, it came in handy. She got one for herself and one for Therese, grabbed a couple other things from her medicine cabinet, and slid back into bed. She wanted to curl right back into Therese - even if she’d never fall back asleep, she’d enjoy simply resting behind her - but Carol had work to do. And as long as Therese was sleeping, she’d use the time to get some of it done. 

The first email to greet Carol when she opened her laptop was, as always, from Harge. Could she look at the numbers from last year’s sales to decide if they should have the staff holiday party on the second _Monday_ or the second _Tuesday_ of December? Either way, Carol would be losing a day off, so both seemed shitty to her. She loved her staff, she did. She bought into the whole “we’re not just a team, we’re family,” thing, for the most part. She’d seen all of them cry and scream and laugh and work together and act like children and grow up. Aside from Therese and the two new bartenders, every person had been working at the restaurant for over a year, and Carol supposed if they had enough dedication to stay that long, she could muster up some sort of spirit and let them have a holiday party. Especially because the next task on her agenda was rejecting most of their requests for time off around Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

Carol opened up the website for the schedule, found the time-off requests and clicked _deny, deny, deny, deny, deny, approve, approve, approve._ She sent out a quick message about it being “first come, first serve,” and made a note to remind everyone of their holiday hours and closures. Just as she emailed Harge his answer ( _Tuesday_ ), a hand weighed down the back of the screen to her laptop and closed it. 

And there was Therese. Smiling and sleepy. 

“What are you doing?”

Carol set her laptop to the side of her bed. “Disappointing people. It’s how I like to start my day.”

Therese laughed and then grumbled and squinted. “Yeah, like me. Why do you have so much clothing on? That’s what’s disappointing.”

“Because,” Carol pointed to the nightstand at Therese’s side where there was Gatorade and ibuprofen and a multivitamin. “I had to venture beyond this bed to get those.”

Small things like watching Therese rub her eyes and take a sip of her drink to swallow the pills made Carol’s heart lurch with want. It almost hurt. She wanted Therese - she _had_ Therese - their conversation after dinner had confirmed that - but something still made her want _more._ Even if she didn’t know what more was just yet. 

Basking in disbelief was good for the moment, though, because Carol wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to be with someone like Therese (though there was nobody like her). She saw the way people looked at Therese - because _she_ looked at Therese like that: the way you look at someone when they’re more stunning than anyone else in the room, in the building, in the city. She knew why everyone was drawn to Therese: she was friendly and sincere and warm. Carol wasn’t any of those things: she was distant and sarcastic and cold. Yet Therese was next to her, in her bed, taking a strand of Carol’s hair between her fingers and pulling lightly. 

She looked over to Therese. “Did I tell you how fucking beautiful you looked yesterday?”

Making Therese turn _that_ color was becoming a hobby of Carol’s. She loved it. “No…”

“Well, you did. I couldn’t stop staring at you.”

Therese let go of Carol’s hair and rolled her eyes, hiding them a bit with her hands. Carol wanted to hide, too, not used to admitting these things. But Therese was sweet enough that Carol wasn’t so wary being vulnerable around her. She was fairly certain her vulnerability wouldn’t be weaponized. Not by Therese, anyway. 

“I don’t want to go to work today.” Therese said it while she shifted on top of Carol and peppered her neck with kisses.

“Neither do I.” If Carol usually hated going to work, it was nothing compared to today.

The lips on her neck stopped and Therese pulled her head back. 

“It’s Monday. You don’t work Mondays.”

“I switched days with Jeanette - she worked for me yesterday, I’m working for her tonight.” 

Jeanette had offered Tuesday initially, thinking Carol might not want to come into work hungover. It was a thoughtful offer, but Therese didn’t work Tuesdays, so there was no way Carol would prefer going in on a Tuesday.

“You have therapy tomorrow?”

“Right.” That was the other reason. And voting was the next day, as well, and Carol didn’t especially want to get up super early to have to wait in long lines of people trying to vote before work. 

Therese was still on top of Carol, but propped herself up on elbows at either side of Carol’s ribs. “Can I ask you a question?” Therese only paused to wait for a look of permission, and then continued, “is there a particular reason you go to therapy?”

It was the question Carol had been expecting. She sighed, and Therese started to retreat, to tell her she didn’t have to answer, but Carol didn’t mind. The truth was, there wasn’t one specific event or cause for her therapy visits. She told Therese as much, and added, “I just went through a series of not great relationships and lost myself in them. When Cynthia and I broke up, I was thirty-one and I felt like I’d never find anyone. Which is ridiculous, I know. But it felt like I couldn’t make anyone happy. And then I was also just so deeply unhappy myself…”

The familiar feeling of discomfort, of revealing far too much, washed over Carol and she trailed off, not really ending her explanation. But it would have to do, and Therese didn’t seem to need much more. She was studying Carol in a way that made Carol unable to look her in the eye until she said, “well, you make _me_ really happy.”

That was all Carol wanted, really, because Therese made her feel good in ways that seemed impossible. She made Carol feel good about herself. And Carol had been trying hard to return that sentiment, but she wasn’t sure just she herself would cut it - hence the dates and the sex and the - completely genuine - praise. She wanted to give Therese reasons to keep seeing her, but hearing that she made Therese happy, “really happy,” meant much more. She loved making Therese feel good. 

The topic switched to a lighter one: what the plan was for the day, considering Therese newfound discovery that Carol would be at work that evening, too. Carol didn’t have anything ideas set in stone, or anything, but she could come up with something on-the-fly. “Well, here’s what I’m thinking: I’m going to go down on you, and then let’s sleep off this hangover for another couple hours, wake up, get something to eat, swing by your place so you can get your things for work, and…head over there, I guess. ‘Make money,’ or whatever.”

Just as Carol had hoped, Therese enthusiastically agreed to all of it.

\-----

When Abby had told Therese the night before that she hadn’t _ever_ seen Carol as happy as she had been recently, Therese didn’t think too much into it. People spoke in hyperbole all the time. It was a lovely thing to say, but likely over-the-top. But in the morning, when Carol explained to Therese what sounded like a stint of serious depression, Therese considered the real possibility that she might actually make Carol feel as happy as Abby suggested. 

The rest of the morning and then afternoon had gone just as Carol had laid-out, with Therese falling quickly back into an orgasm-induced sleep until about half past noon. She showered at Carol’s and they ventured out to find lunch, and Therese was reminded of how grumpy Carol could be when she didn’t eat properly. 

“As much as I love the taste of you, it’s not exactly sustenance.”

Therese was delighted that Carol loved _anything_ about her, even if it was something so salacious. 

They stopped by a restaurant that they both knew for lunch - the main draw being their quality of coffee - and went to Therese’s apartment afterward. While Therese changed her clothes and put on makeup, she heard Carol talking to Lauren in the living room. She’d requested an appearance by Butter, and Lauren complied and dragged Butter from her perch in Jasmine’s bedroom. Therese heard Carol ask Lauren, “do I know you from somewhere beyond being Therese’s roommate?” They’d met a couple times already, but Carol must’ve been just now placing her as the hostess to the restaurant her friend worked at. When Lauren told her, Carol apologized profusely for not making the connection earlier. 

Arriving to work at the exact same time wasn’t anything odd, they decided. They did take the same train to get there, and Therese was always either twenty minutes early or, more often, five minutes late. She could be twenty - or thirty - minutes early if it meant spending more time with Carol. Therese couldn’t clock-in early, though, and when she tried to start doing her opening side-work, Carol shook her head. “ _Do not_ work when you’re off the clock. I’m serious. Nobody expects you to.” So she sat on her phone and waited until 4pm instead, still clutching her Gatorade, not quite rid of her hangover. Carol came up from her office at one point to set more ibuprofen in front of Therese. Carol was definitely still hungover, and when Therese told her she didn’t feel _that_ bad anymore, Carol remarked that it must be nice being twenty five, and warned Therese that she would remember this when Therese was thirty-four. It was the implication of her statement that kept Therese from biting back.

Gen came into work and immediately started talking Therese’s ear off about her friend’s art show happening in a couple weekends. She thought Therese would really enjoy it, and said that they should check it out together. Therese would probably take her up on that. One thing Gen was nice about was finding things she thought her friends would like. She once bought Dannie a jacket from a thrift store because it looked like something he’d wear. The trouble was becoming a part of Gen’s network of friends - that took work. Somehow Therese had been granted a free pass, likely because of her closeness to Dannie. About fifteen minutes into their conversation, Gen took note of the Gatorade and the sunglasses dangling from Therese’s neckline. It wasn’t sunny outside. “Wait, are you hungover too?”

Therese paused mid-linen fold. “What do you mean ‘too?’”

“Oh, I just passed Carol and she looks like shit.” She looked nowhere close to “like shit,” but, whatever. “I guess her and Jack went to some wine thing last night, because she wasn’t here. What did you do last night?”

“My roommate had the final dress rehearsal of her play, so I went to that and we went out after.” Therese had mentally practiced the response many times, just in case of this very situation.

Nothing was thought of it, clearly, because Gen just kept folding linens and asked Therese what the play was about. Luckily, Jasmine really was in a play right now, it just wasn’t in it’s final rehearsals yet and Therese hadn’t seen it, but she knew the gist of it, so she explained it to Gen and they moved on. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Carol walk by and move behind the bar with Harge. They crouched out of sight, seemingly on the floor, and Therese and Gen grew curious and crept over. Carol sitting on the ground, looking underneath the sink while Harge shined his phone’s flashlight. 

“What are you guys doing?” Gen asked. 

One of the new bartenders came up behind her and answered. “There’s this weird thing that keeps happening with one of the tap lines. I guess the only person who knew how to fix it was the old bartender.”

He couldn’t have known he was bringing up a tense subject. But Gen took the opportunity to, once again, make a dig. “Right, Jaylen was good at this kind of stuff. Maybe if she, you know, still worked here - ”

It wasn’t Carol, but Harge, who cut her off. “Jaylen and Kevin were let go because Carol found out they were stealing money from all of you, Gen. They are not your friends. Carol is. They were pocketing cash tips and not reporting them, resulting it huge losses from the tip pool. Carol noticed the discrepancy and we fired them right away. Let it go.”

Nobody said anything for several minutes. Carol was getting frustrated and growled. “Okay, everyone except for Harge get away from me. Standing and staring is not helping.”

By the time their pre-shift meeting rolled around, Gen still hadn’t said anything about being called out by Harge, so Therese figured she would be nice and drop it. Giving Gen an “I told you so,” would only make matters worse. She wished she could say something like that though, to tell Gen to give Carol the benefit of the doubt every once in a while. 

Before service, everyone gathered around a few tables in the dining room and Carol read notes to the front-of-the-house staff, as per usual. Therese could see Carol’s annoyance as she announced that they would be unusually busy for a Monday - because of course they’d be busy the Monday Carol had to close - and a lot of VIP guests were coming in, which meant a lot of communication and meeting of demands. 

“Also, our holiday party will be on December 11th - which is a Tuesday. Where it’ll be is still being finalized, but you may bring _family or significant others_ \- not random friends. It’ll be open bar, obviously.” Carol sighed, and looked like she was bracing herself. “I know a lot of you wanted time off that you might not be getting. I’m sorry. If you were denied your request this time around, you’ll be first in-line for January. We are _closed_ on Thanksgiving. We are _closed_ on Christmas Day - we are _open_ on Christmas Eve and taking our last seating at 10:45. We’re _open_ New Years Eve and taking our last seating at 11:45pm. We’ll be closed New Years Day.”

All at once, nearly everybody started talking at Carol and Therese watched as she closed her eyes and shifted her jaw. Her hand raised to beg for quiet. 

“Listen, I get it. I don’t want to be here either. I don’t determine these things though, but feel free to come to me with any questions.”

And with that, Carol fled to her office, leaving a behind a group of disgruntled staff and their misdirected anger. 

The business of the night made it go by quickly. Around 9:45, Carol came by and told Therese she was cut. She was torn between wanting to stop working, to get off the floor and relax, and wanting to stay because Carol had to stay. She didn’t try to rush her last tables into leaving, content with waiting around while they took all the time in the world to pay. It was still well before midnight when she was ready to check-out, though. Therese found Carol in her office, sorting wine bottles. 

“Ready to get out of here?” Carol asked when Therese walked in and shut the door behind herself. 

_Not especially_ was the truth, but she just handed her things to Carol and waited as she counted her money and typed some numbers into her computer. 

“All right, my dear. You’re all set.”

But Therese wasn’t all set. Not yet. She checked to make sure she had locked the door to Carol’s office before leaning over to Carol and kissing her hard. Hard enough that Carol would have to fix her lipstick before going back upstairs. 

“What are you doing tomorrow? Besides therapy.” Therese hoped she wasn’t asking too much by trying to fit herself into Carol’s schedule at any and every possible time she had free.

“Voting.”

Oh right. Of course. 

“Fuck, I have to go back to Astoria for that. Do you want to come with me?”

Carol nodded her head and smiled. Therese hadn’t really thought it was that enticing of an offer, but Carol seemed to think so. Carol asked if she lived in the part of Astoria where she got to vote for Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. Therese did, but she joked that she was a Republican, and Carol whacked her with a stack of receipts and said, “ _not even funny,_ Therese,” but she was laughing all the while. Therese asked if Carol would cook for her, knowing she was going out on a limb with the question. But Carol’s eyes shifted and she hummed and said, “maybe.” It was as good an answer as any. 

When Therese walked back to the train to go home by herself, she checked the time on her phone. It was midnight, Carol’s appointment was at 11am the next day, meaning she would be meeting her in twelve hours. Therese supposed she could wait that long. She didn’t want to, but she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have another, like, 50+ hour work week coming up, so this might be it for a minute. 
> 
> But please, thoughts? Questions? Comments? Concerns?


	15. Chapter 15

Headed on her usual train back to Clinton Hill, Therese found herself getting off at Canal instead and walking through Chinatown, across to the Lower East Side. Her studio would likely be empty at this hour - midnight on a Monday - and she could use the alone time. Not from Carol - she’d choose to be with her over the studio any time, for better or worse. But tonight she didn’t have much choice in the matter. 

Her earbuds will still in her ears when she made her way over to her locker and the space where in canvases were out. She’d started three in total already. Portraiture required a patience she wasn’t used to practicing. The abstract work she’d focused most of her efforts on over the past few years called for a different type of patience. Patience for inspiration, patience for trial and error (and the frustration that came with displeasure and starting all over again and again _and again_ ). Rarely did she have to have so much patience for watching paint dry. Literally. But Therese hadn’t worked on anything like this in years - since school, when she’d had a stint where she thought she might pursue hyper-realism painting, somewhere between her explorations of illustration and abstract art - and she wasn’t about to deviate from another familiarity, oil paints, as well.

For whatever reason, she’d started the hair on all three first, after pencil plotting. She was examining one of the canvases when Ruby scared the absolute _shit_ out of her. It wasn’t Ruby’s fault, she was trying not to creep up, waving her hand in Therese’s peripheral. Therese was surprised she didn’t smash into the ceiling for how high she jumped.

“Jesus - _fuck._ Ruby!” Therese’s earbuds would absolutely not be going back in tonight. 

“I’m _so_ sorry, Therese. I thought you knew I was in here.”

Obviously she hadn’t. At a time like this, she expected to be on her own, but Therese also realized she herself was never in the studio on this day, at this hour, so she shouldn’t have made assumptions about who would and/or would not be working.

It had been a few months since Therese had begun renting the shared space, but most everyone else kept such sporadic hours that she had only really gotten to know a handful of people. Ruby was one of them. She was nice enough, but, _god,_ was she eccentric. Everything about her was styled like a caricature of a someone out of the 1950s: A-line dresses with full skirts, rounded-toe pumps, cat-eye glasses, even her hair was curled perfectly inward at her chin like Grace Kelly - except it was blue. That was the only outlier. She was a sculptor, a somewhat successful one, too - Therese was pretty sure she didn’t have a day job. Or if she did, it wasn’t a large part of her life, because she’d never mentioned it.

Ruby was known for her nosiness. 

“So,” she pointed toward the fixature Therese held, “this is quite the departure. Who’s this with all the blonde hair filling an entire three canvases?”

For once, Therese was grateful for this nosy quality of Ruby’s.

“This is…my girlfriend, actually.” It was the first time Therese had the chance to say it out loud, say it to somebody else.

Ruby’s blue fringe shook quickly and she said, “I never say this, but you didn’t strike me as queer, Therese. Well, I should know better,” she seemed to take her time studying Therese’s just-begun painting. “But that makes sense: hence the muse-ship.”

Therese just crossed her arms and nodded, scanning over her own work. “Yes. Exactly.”

As they both looked on, Ruby was kind enough to compare Therese’s barely started paintings to those of David Cobley. Though Therese disagreed, she didn’t say so, and even let Ruby further compare her to a few of her friends that Therese knew of vaguely. 

It shocked Ruby that Therese hadn’t gone to grad school. And that she was only twenty-five years old. Ruby was impressed, and she knew Therese had work soon to be displayed in a gallery in Chelsea. But, Therese pointed out, that was her abstract stuff, and this was so very different.

“I’m interested to see where you go with this, though. Your inclination seems to extend beyond the paintings you’re used to. I’ve seen your graphic design. And now this. Keep me posted, Therese.”

She almost asked why, but then Therese held back, and decided she would accept the curiosity, pleased to not be thought of as a dilettante by someone with credentials. Ruby might have been obnoxious at times, but she was kind. And not to mention better connected than most of Therese’s friends. They’d talk MFAs and residencies the next time they saw each other, Ruby said, and Therese halfheartedly agreed. She’d never planned to get her MFA, which made residencies seem somewhat out-of-the-question, but that was a discussion for another time, because Ruby was packing up her things in the sewing bag that doubled as a tote.

When she left, Therese worked for a couple hours in complete silence, peering for hours down at a canvas that would eventually manifest itself into Carol’s face dangling over the back of the armrest to her couch, hair falling downward toward the floor as she looked on. Therese hadn’t realized the time that had passed until her phone buzzed with a notification from Dannie at 2:27am. She’d need to get _some_ sleep if she wanted to make the most of spending the entirety of the next day with Carol, so Therese sucked it up and called a Lyft, wondering the entire ride back when Carol had left work, how she’d gotten home, if she was still awake.

Serendipitous to say the least, she received a text from Carol almost as soon as she walked into her apartment door.

_When and where tomorrow? Or today, depending on when you see this._

If she had been one to write and send this message herself, Therese would’ve been taking the entirety of the night, consulting with friends and roommates - maybe even strangers - before sending anything to Carol. But she’d been wondering the same and was thankful Carol had taken the initiative to ask. 

_I’m free all day, so you tell me._

It was purposefully open-ended, because any excuse to keep the back-and-forth going with Carol was a good one. If Therese had any real bravery, she figured, she would invite herself over to Carol’s apartment that night. But she knew that would be too much, already spending a considerable amount of time at Carol’s, and she probably would be the next night, too.

They settled on meeting outside Carol’s therapist’s office at noon. Or noon-ish, Carol’s therapist had the tendency to run slightly late with Carol and Carol never paid much attention to the time herself. Despite the warnings of a wait, Therese knew she’d be there at noon exactly. 

\-----

The threat of rain did nothing to put a damper on her mood. She’d brought an umbrella. She came prepared. Waiting for Carol outside, she scrolled Instagram absentmindedly until she felt hands grab around her waist from behind and Carol’s nose bury into her neck. 

“Oh, well hey there.” Therese reached around to press the back of Carol’s head, trying to bring her impossibly close. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“I _am._ ” Carol kissed Therese’s shoulder before bringing herself around to face her. “You look so pretty. I love your hair like this.”

That comment made Therese’s efforts worth it - waking herself up earlier than she wanted to do her makeup and hair. It was just a half ponytail, but if Carol liked it - _loved_ it - then she’d wear it like that all the time. When Carol took Therese’s hand and started pulling her, typing something on her phone, it was clear she had a plan in mind. It was what she did: Carol planned. Therese didn’t, but she wanted to start. 

Carol was still lazily dragging Therese down the block without explanation, prompting Therese to laugh, and ask, “where are we going?”

“Just this corner to wait for a Lyft. I want to get off of Metropolitan. What’s the address of your polling place?”

Therese had it saved on her phone somewhere, and looked it up while still urging Carol to give her more to work with regarding the rest of their day. 

“Well, I figured we’ll Lyft to Astoria, because it’s just faster, then we’ll take the W into Manhattan because I need to stop by work super quick - sorry - and we’ll go to this spice store on Avenue B because I need to buy a few things for tonight - ”

“For tonight?” Therese cut Carol off. She had a feeling she knew what it meant, but asked anyway. 

Yes, for tonight. Carol rolled her eyes and admitted that - only because Therese had asked so adorably, she’d cook dinner for her. “But don’t get your hopes up.” Even if the building burned down and set fire to the entire block in the process, it would be the best dinner Therese had ever had. She promised to reward Carol for her efforts, and Carol repeated for Therese to “lower your expectations.”

“I think I’m so confident in you that I’ll provide compensation in advance.”

Carol looked scandalized as they hopped into their Lyft.

The line to vote in Astoria was longer than Therese had hoped, but it was around lunch time, and she should have expected as much. It occurred to Therese that Carol hadn’t mentioned doing the same as part of their days activities.

“I was woken up at seven this morning by Tessie. She wanted to go running so I did that and then we went early.” Carol explained and Therese’s jaw dropped as she calculated the time in her head. Carol had texted her just four hours before that. But there was more to it: “don’t worry, I went back to bed immediately. I won’t be falling asleep on you again.”

Not that it would’ve been an issue. 

The perks of getting on the train in Astoria, boarding at the second stop on the line meant they could easily find seats, and even though there was plenty of room, Therese sat as close to Carol as possible without sitting on her lap. She grabbed Carol’s hand and laced their fingers together, then brought them up closer to her face, inspecting the freckles on Carol’s skin and the rings she wore. 

“What’s this one?” Therese ran her thumb over a gold snake that Carol had around her index finger. 

“Gift from my grandma. Probably the only piece of jewelry I’ve held onto for over a decade, for whatever reason.”

"Mom's mom or dad's mom?"

Looking down at the ring, Carol sighed. "Mom's mom. She died...two years ago now? Now my only grandparent is my dad's mom."

The next ring was on Carol’s middle finger, it was thin and gold and had pink jewels around the entire band. That one, along with another on her ring finger and the last one on the index finger of her left hand, Carol found. Two at work and one in the grass at Prospect Park.

It made Therese laugh, how not-Carol it seemed. “How thrifty.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s sad.” Carol’s head shook slightly to move the hair out of her face. “Any other jewelry inquiries?”

Therese thought for a moment. “Any unadorned piercings I don’t know about?”

Carol had three in her earlobes and two in the cartilage of her right ear, though she didn’t often wear earrings beyond just one pair. 

It came as a surprise when Carol nodded her head. Therese was intrigued. “Nose - you can probably see a little dot where my foundation doesn’t hide it - ” Carol turned her head and Therese looked closely. She could, now that Carol mentioned it. “Belly button. Drunk. Took it out within six months. The hole won’t close.” 

“Oh, how trashy. I kind of like that, though.” Therese poked at Carol’s reddening cheek. “That’s okay, I used to have my nipples pierced. You can’t really tell, though.”

The pink flush on Carol’s face grew as she seemed to short-circuit. “And why on earth did you take those out?” Her eyes traveled down Therese’s frame as if she’d summon them back and see them through her shirt, somehow. 

“Because I was tired of seeing God every time I used a loofah.” Therese shuddered at the thought as Carol laughed. “It’s as close to death as I’ve ever felt. Trust me, not worth it.”

Though slightly disappointed, Carol assured she would take Therese at her word. The train finally pulled into the Eighth Street Station and they got off - passing the flocks of NYU students and rich preschoolers and their nannies. It had started raining when they were on the train, and Therese took the opportunity huddled underneath an umbrella with Carol to walk even closer, gripping her free hand like a vice. 

They’d go to the spice shop first, Carol decided. It made more sense directionally. So the wandered across Astor Place, past Therese’s old school, down St. Marks, and through Tompkins Square Park to get to their destination. It no longer caught Therese off guard when Carol was greeted by name, like was the case with the person working in the store. He asked if Carol was there to get ingredients for herself or for Michael - the executive chef at their work. 

“Personal business. I don’t do Ma Moitié on Tuesdays,” Carol said, which Therese knew was such a lie. She worked constantly, days off be damned. “Matthew, this is my girlfriend Therese.”

The words would be stuck in Therese’s head all afternoon. No objections, of course. 

Carol asked about mushrooms and they were led to a cooler in the back of the store. She picked out chanterelles and oyster mushrooms and then grabbed fleur de sel on the way to checkout. While Matthew was ringing everything up, Carol asked Therese to go grab her a bottle of almond oil from a nearby shelf. When she returned, Carol took it, shrugged, and said, “never mind. Can you go put this back?”

It only occurred to Therese as they left the store what Carol had been doing. “How much was all of that?” Chanterelles were expensive, even if in-season.

“Not telling you. You walked right into that so I didn’t need to put up a fight.”

The reason for going to their work was wine. Therese should’ve known as much. To her surprise, Carol didn’t ask her to wait outside or at the end of the block. Harge would probably be in the building somewhere, and maybe Jeanette, but Carol didn’t care. She said she sold wine to employees at-cost sometimes, and she’d use that as an excuse for the two of them showing up together were she asked. But she figured Harge and Jeanette probably would be in their offices, and wouldn’t notice anyway. 

Therese drifted around the empty dining room of the restaurant, shifting her feet slowly, dragging her nails over tabletops. She’d worked there now for a couple of months, and felt surprisingly comfortable in the space, but not to the extent that Carol did - Therese knew years of spending the majority of her waking life left Carol feeling like the restaurant was her second home. As much as Carol talked about dreading going to work, about not liking her job, Therese could see that she wasn’t eager to part with it either. 

Carol’s voice echoed from across the room. “I’ve got the goods, let’s roll.”

Before they’d arrived, Carol had dropped Therese’s hand a block or two away from work, and as they left, she didn’t hold it again until they were a safe distance from the building. 

They took their usual train back to Carol’s apartment and Therese wasn’t even interested in letting Carol put their stuff in the fridge. Between rough kisses, Carol managed to get out, “okay, but at least the champagne. So I don’t have to wrap it in wet paper towel and freeze it.”

Therese allowed her that much.

Lying on top of Carol, kissing the salty sweat from between her hip bones and ribs and breasts and collar bones after making her come was almost as enjoyable as the sex. Almost. But not quite. Carol tugged on Therese’s arm to pull her up to lay beside her, eyes still closed and smiling.

“Let’s just relax here for, like, thirty minutes and then I’ll start dinner. Okay?”

As if Therese would ever protest. But if relaxing meant sleeping, it wasn’t going to happen for her. She felt suddenly chatty as Carol ran her nails up and down her spine. 

“Does your mom know about me?” Therese felt a pang of regret as soon as the question left her mouth. The answer could be awkward. Even the question alone was weird. She winced, but Carol smiled.

“Yes. Why?” 

“I don’t know why I asked that. I was just wondering, I guess.”

Therese knew that she’d asked mostly because Carol had talked about how close she was with her family on several occasions. While trying not to pry, or make any implications, Therese asked if Carol was upset she didn’t get to see her family during the holidays - Therese having her own unique situation didn’t have much to compare. Thanksgiving wasn’t important to Carol, but it was hard not being with them during Christmas. “It’s mostly because I know how upset my parents are that I’m never there. And I miss my sister and niece and nephew.” 

“What do you do instead?”

Lying on her back now, Carol was staring at her ceiling fan. “I used to go to Abby’s for Thanksgiving, but now that she has Rindy and it’s all of her and Alexandra’s family, I don’t. I know she’d be happy to have me, but I just feel out of place. So Thanksgiving I just hang out at home until Jessica is done with her family, then she comes over. It’s no big deal.”

It might not have been to Carol, but Therese remembered dreading Thanksgiving and Christmas during her first year of college. The thought of being the only person left in the dorm - a very likely scenario for the small college she went to - was horribly depressing. But then Dannie had found out she’d be staying at school and _insisted_ Therese just come to his parents’ in New Jersey. In fact, his parents wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. And she’d spent almost every major holiday with them since. 

Therese hated the idea of Carol alone in her apartment on Thanksgiving, sitting on her couch and watching movies. By herself. But she wouldn’t push it, because really, what was she supposed to do to fix things? 

Carol didn’t seem bothered, and didn’t notice Therese was bothered either, because her eyes were fluttering closed and she still wore a satisfied smile on her lips as her fingertips resumed their up and down motion. Therese snuggled closer and shut her eyes, as well. 

When she opened them again, it was a little while later. The rain had stopped and the sun set. Therese lifted her head to find Carol’s, to wake her up, and was met with eyes already staring back. She looked like she’d been awake for some time. 

“I fell asleep.” Therese stated the obvious. 

“I know.”

“Did you sleep?”

Lips came down to kiss Therese before Carol answered. “Yes. For a bit.”

Therese mewled and raised her eyebrows. “I’m _hungry._ But this time for food.”

It made Carol laugh and she smacked Therese’s thigh before lifting herself out of bed and putting on clothes, much to Therese’s dismay. When Therese went to do the same, finding her own clothing scattered about Carol’s bedroom floor, Carol shot her a look. “I think you should forgo the pants. And the shirt. And the underwear and bra. It’ll help me cook.”

“I think you’ll burn the food.” Therese went to put on her t-shirt, but dropped it back on the floor and sifted through Carol’s closet to find a sweatshirt instead. When she pulled it over her head, she found Carol staring at her intensely, then she took a sharp breath in and headed to the kitchen, not waiting for Therese. 

Once, Carol had told Therese that she was a more talented artist than she let on. Therese could say the same about Carol and cooking. The final product didn’t need to be tasted for it to be obvious that there was some real skill there. Carol chopped shallots and garlic with the same precision that Therese watched the chefs at work. She didn’t use a recipe, either. She just knew what would taste good - a comment that earned a raised eyebrow from Therese to which Carol rolled her eyes in response. She poured one of three types of olive oil she had in her pantry into a deep saucepan and threw in the shallots once it was heated. 

“I used to make this with butter, but I made it for Jessica one time - Jessica’s vegan - and the olive oil version wound up tasting way better.” Carol uncorked the wine as she spoke and poured a glass for Therese. “You can sit on the counter if you want. You don’t have to just stand there.”

Therese did, and Carol seemed to love it, because she said she did and pulled Therese’s face down to kiss her before drinking her champagne. 

“I thought you hated risotto. You kept getting mad at everyone who made it on _Chopped._ ” It had been a point of contention the week prior. 

“No, I love risotto. But it requires constant attention. You can’t just leave it alone. That’s what makes it risotto and not just a bunch of seasoned rice.” She stirred the pot with shallots and added the mushrooms and more olive oil.

Wanting to help but not knowing how, Therese was granted the task of adding bouillon to a pot with hot water. Water boiled, things mixed together, Therese bowed and Carol clapped, and joked that she couldn’t make this without Therese’s invaluable input. 

Therese loved watching Carol cook like she loved watching Carol pour and talk about wine. Like she loved watching Carol pick out a bottle of wine. Like she loved watching Carol pick out and inspect wine glasses. Like she loved watching Carol move around her house in any capacity. Like she loved Carol. She said it over and over again in her head. Loving the way love sounded. 

“Therese, will you try this for me?” Risotto was quick, too, apparently. And thank god, because Therese hadn’t eaten all day and she was downing her champagne. 

And whatever Carol shoved in her mouth with a wooden spoon was fucking _divine._ Talk about being more talented than one let on. 

“Carol. What the fuck?” Therese took the spoon from Carol’s hand and tasted more. “This is so good.”

Carol’s eyes lit up, but she stayed shy. “Yeah? You like it?”

Grabbing both of Carol’s hands in her own, Therese looked at her intently. “Will you…marry me?”

An obvious joke, but Therese could practice, at least. Carol laughed. “Oh honey, you’ve seen the jewelry on these hands. I most definitely require a ring for this sort of question.”

Now _that_ was certainly the truth. But Therese found a twist tie on Carol’s counter and fashioned it around her ring finger. “There. Now, the only promise you have to make to me is this meal, every night, forever.”

Carol kept looking down at the green wire wrapped loosely below her knuckle and nodded, then smiled back up at Therese. “Okay, that seems fair. The cost of this twist tie compared to the ingredients of this dinner that I’ll apparently be making every night. Totally reasonable.”

In all seriousness, Therese wanted to know when they could eat, inspired now by not just her growing hunger but by her newfound favorite thing. It was almost ready, and Carol told her to knock back the rest of her glass because there was a Pinot Noir they would drink with it instead. That twist tie stayed on Carol’s finger all night.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this and...I kind of love it?
> 
> Next chapter won’t be for a little while my loves. Sorry. So much work, yet again.

Crying wasn’t Carol, at least not to Therese. Therese didn’t think of Carol as a crier. But apparently, she was. According to Carol, anyway. 

The first time she witnessed Carol cry was after work on a Sunday. The Sunday after one of the best nights Therese had ever had - when Carol had cooked for her. Therese had left work much earlier than Carol that Sunday, and spent time in her studio, waiting for Carol to let her know when she was done. 

Just after midnight, Carol texted her letting her know she’d meet her at the Canal station. When she did, Carol looked beat. It hadn’t been a particularly busy or challenging night, Therese thought, but when she cupped her hands over Carol’s neck and stroked her thumbs over her jawline, Carol avoided looking at her. She muttered a weak greeting and said she just wanted to get home. And not much was said until they walked into her apartment. 

That was when Carol started crying. It took some prodding by Therese. She had to ask Carol what was wrong multiple times, and was met with a string of annoyed dismissals until Carol sat on the sofa and Therese put her hand on her shoulder. 

Carol tried to hide her tears with her hands over her face, but she started crying harder. 

It was startling. “Oh...Carol. What’s going on? What happened?”

But Carol couldn’t get any words out to respond. Therese knelt on the ground in front of her to try and see her face, to examine it for signs of why she was so distraught. When Carol wouldn’t let her, she forcefully removed Carol’s hands from her eyes and brought them up around her shoulders. Giving in, Carol buried her face in the crook of Therese’s neck and Therese could feel the fabric of her shirt dampening as Carol choked out her frustrations. It was all about work, of course, and Harge and Jeanette. They thought Carol wasn’t doing a good job of managing the dishwashers at night - she needed to get them out earlier so they didn’t keep going into overtime. 

Therese felt an unfamiliar anger build inside of her as she hushed at Carol and stroked her hair. How fucking dare Harge and Jeanette comment on Carol’s time management. As far as Therese was concerned, almost all of Carol’s time was spent working - who were they to get on her case? Carol was right too, because the specific reasons for why this in particular bothered her so much were laid out when she’d calmed down enough to speak full sentences. 

“It’s just that,” Carol started and looked up, wiping the mascara from under her eyes. “I almost always close on our busiest nights. So they don’t understand how much more time it takes. Like, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Just send the dishwashers home and do them myself? Maybe I’ll fire the cleaning crew and clean the restaurant overnight while I’m at it.”

A stray hair fell from Carol’s bun into her face and Therese pushed it behind her ear, just looking and listening as Carol found her breath again. Therese clicked her tongue as she brushed away the last few rogue tears.

Carol pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry. I’m being ridiculous. I’m sorry for crying and complaining. You shouldn’t have - ”

There was no way Therese would let Carol finish her sentence. “Hey now, stop that. I’m not just here for the fun stuff, okay? You’re my girl. This is all included.”

Her words were met with a watery smile and Carol dipped her head down. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Therese kissed her and hoped Carol realized she asked herself the same thing every single day.

——

The second time Therese saw Carol cry was a little over a week later. She and Carol had finally gotten around to seeing _A Star is Born._ Enough said. To be fair, Therese cried too. They both knew what was going to happen - they’d seen the earlier versions - but it didn’t make the inevitable any easier. 

Therese loved watching movies with Carol, looking over at her to catch her reactions to scenes, often finding Carol already doing the same to her. She didn’t like it when Carol cried - Therese wasn’t a psychopath - but she _did_ feel an odd sort of satisfaction that Carol allowed her to witness her being so vulnerable, aware that it didn’t happen frequently. 

As the month went on, it became less necessary to discuss plans. Carol no longer had to ask Therese if she wanted to come back to her place after they went to dinner or on nights when Carol left work at a reasonable hour - it was just assumed. Never one to be inconsiderate, Carol began coming to Therese’s a little more, too. As promised, she brought over wine one night when she knew Therese’s roommates would be home. They drank and played Scrabble and Carol put down “jezebel” on a triple word score, thwarting anyone else’s chances of winning. The second game, Carol played “xenon” on a triple letter space - prompting Lauren to half-jokingly but sort of seriously accuse Carol of cheating. 

They switched to Clue after that.

That night was the same night Carol gave Therese an absurdly large hickey where her neck met her shoulder. When Therese saw it fully formed the next morning, she decided the only thing keeping it from looking like she’d been kicked in the neck were the teeth marks. Carol said she was sorry, but Therese had her doubts. 

“You told me to be quiet!” Carol laughed standing next to Therese in front of the bathroom mirror.

“When I told you to shut your mouth, I didn’t think it would be to gnaw on me.” Her annoyance was mostly pretend, but she needed to get some teasing out if she’d be sporting that bruise for days to come. “What am I supposed to tell people?”

“Hair straightener?” That was Carol’s half-assed suggestion.

“Carol, I’d have to have clamped a straightener around my neck and held it there for half an hour for it to do this to me.”

With some cover-up and foundation and an extra button on her work shirt, Therese found a way to hide it for the most part.

——

Later that same day, after Carol had left early for a manager meeting, somehow Dannie convinced Therese to get a drink _before_ work - not something either usually did, but they were in need of a catch up, and both figured, _why not?_ Therese also wasn’t a big beer drinker, but the bar her and Dannie went to had a mezcal and amaro shot and Modelo combination for only twelve dollars that she couldn’t pass up.

Thanksgiving was five days away, and Therese and Dannie needed to iron out plans. Get to Dannie’s parents by 2pm at the latest - they ate early, around 5pm - and would Therese be staying the night?

“So, here’s the thing,” Therese wanted to tell the truth, so badly, but instead, “my roommates are doing Thanksgiving, but like, later at night. I kind of want to be nice and show up.”

Her roommates were having Thanksgiving - well, Lauren was, Jasmine was going home to Pennsylvania - but that wasn’t what Therese had in mind for the rest of her night.

Luckily, Dannie was Dannie, and always understanding. They steered the conversation to their art: Dannie was working on a paper and string sculpture smaller in scale than his usual efforts, but that required more precision. He had photos, and Therese asked if he’d considered hanging them from the ceiling. Making multiples, like a mobile installation. He made a note on his phone and then prodded Therese about what she’d been painting with those small brushes on those giant canvases he’d helped stretch. 

“Still can’t tell you. Not ready yet.” She smiled slyly and sipped her Modelo.

“You’re so fucking annoying, dude,” he said it and pushed her gently, causing Therese to flinch in her seat. “Holy shit, Therese! That hickey!”

Well...fuck.

She tried to say that it wasn’t a hickey, but that was out of the question. It was too obvious. Dannie was interrogating her, excited by the sight. “Who Therese? Did you fuck Ben again?”

“God, _no._ ”

“Gwendolyn? Marcus? Therese, come on!”

Lying was not fun. The real answer was fun. But that wouldn’t be happening. 

“It was just this random girl I met at a bar by my house. Katie something.”

At least Dannie bought it without question. “Well, looks like you showed Katie a good time.” He gave Therese a little fist-bump and they finished their drinks.

On the walk to work, they gossiped about their group of friends from school and then moved to their work friends: Gen still had a crush on Therese, Richard was hooking up with one of the hostesses - information Therese had already learned via Carol, who was always entertained by the hostesses love lives - and Fred was still a boring yet hot dad. And Dannie thought the new bartender, Monica, was cute.

“She _is_ cute. You should figure that out.” Not that Dannie needed the encouragement Therese offered. He always went for things, often with results in his favor.

The upcoming holiday season mixed with the shortening days meant the restaurant was especially busy, and busy earlier too. Carol had moved the opening servers’ start times up half an hour because of it. Before walking in the back door, Therese checked the time. Almost 3:45.

Carol was perched at the bar, typing away on her laptop when Therese and Dannie walked into the dining room from the back. Late. By a solid fifteen minutes. And slightly buzzed. But it was worth it. Therese could see one of Carol’s eyebrows arch up. 

“You’re late. Both of you.” 

There was an amusement in Carol’s tone that Therese detected immediately. Therese rolled her eyes when she caught Dannie’s. 

He whispered, “is mommy mad?”

Therese kept her voice low, too, but not low enough for Carol not to hear. “I think mommy’s hungover.”

Clearing her throat, Carol chimed in. “Mommy is not mad nor hungover.” She gave Therese a pointed look. “Just annoyed. Not at either of you, though. But you _are_ late. Let’s not make that a habit, hmm?” 

Something was especially sexy about boss-Carol, even if that wasn’t her intention.

“Also,” Carol closed her laptop and looked over to where Therese and Dannie were setting up to polish silverware. “Why do I have to be mommy?”

“Because Harge is daddy.” Therese giggled. 

Carol had the most disgusted look on her face. “Ew. That’s upsetting enough that I might not order my food anymore.”

Hearing mention of food, Therese’s ears perked up. Apparently whatever the kitchen was making for staff meal had meat in it, and Carol was tired of everything on their menu and left to her own devices. When she told Therese and Dannie she was ordering poke from Wisefish, she seemed to hesitate as she scanned over them. 

After several seconds, she sighed and added, “do you two want anything?”

Therese did, but Dannie said he didn’t want to spend the money.

“I’m paying for it, you twat.” 

Seeing Dannie double over in laughter gave Therese a strange sense of pride, because even if Dannie didn’t know, Therese’s girlfriend was funny and bought them lunch and didn’t care when they showed up to work late. Carol dropped her phone on the table, prompting Dannie to put in his order. While he was busy scanning over the menu, Therese caught Carol staring at her and smiled. 

Carol left to go downstairs into her office when she took her phone back. “Call me up when our food is here, please. It’s paid for and tipped, just sign the receipt.”

Dannie continued sorting knives and forks while Therese polished. 

“I think Carol thinks you’re hot or something. She likes you, I think.”

Therese choked on the air and manipulated it into a laugh. Hopefully a convincing one. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“She’s just, like, super nice to you and in a way better mood when you’re working. Wednesdays are a totally different vibe.” When Dannie said it, Therese’s heart flew. She might have overcorrected externally though, because Dannie saw her face and laughed. “Jesus, I didn’t think you’d be so horrified. Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m not. I’m just surprised you think that.” Navigating this situation was tough, and Therese wasn’t doing a great job of it. “She’s cool, though.”

It felt wrong saying it. Carol was so much more than cool. 

Carol was beautiful and kind and careful and patient and intelligent, interesting, helpful, thoughtful, and completely fucking perfect. 

They talked about a concert coming up at Bowery Ballroom instead. Therese might go, she wasn’t sure yet. 

It didn’t take long for their food to arrive. Therese revelled in sitting next to Carol while they ate. She had felt down about…things. But she perked up when Carol reached her chopsticks over to Therese’s bowl to take a piece of tuna without asking. She did it in front of Dannie and Therese batted her hand away. 

“You got tofu; live with your decisions.” Therese chastised her, knowing Carol would take it as a joke.

Dannie came to Carol’s defense. “She bought it. She’s got jurisdiction over _all_ of this.”

Therese wished she could just tell Dannie that the person he was ganging up on Therese with was her girlfriend. That Carol was her girlfriend. But before she could ask herself just why she couldn’t one more time, Dannie gave her an answer by blurting out that, “Therese has an enormous hickey on her neck from a one-night stand.” She’d specifically told him to not say anything about it. Somehow, Carol’s expression didn’t waver besides a fitting, growing smirk. 

——

The McElroy house in Englewood was one of the rare consistencies in Therese’s life. It was the closest thing to a home she’d ever felt (though Carol’s apartment was quickly beginning to feel like a second home). Anytime she stayed overnight, she slept in the same guest bedroom. There she had shampoo, conditioner, a toothbrush, razors, tampons, makeup, even some clothes she’d left behind over the years. Anytime Therese had an excuse to take the bus to Jersey to visit - though Dannie’s mother Carrie stressed that she didn’t need a reason to drop by - she was elated. Though this Thanksgiving was no different, she felt something missing. Something being someone, and that someone being Carol. 

Doing her best to be a gracious guest, Therese knew not to spend too much time on her phone, but the desire to check in with Carol every five minutes was strong. Helping Carrie in the kitchen was an easy distraction. Cousins hadn’t started arriving yet, Phil was raking leaves, Dannie was setting the tables, Mr. McElroy was walking the dogs. There weren’t any unnecessary pleasantries between Carrie and Therese, Carrie didn’t need to act as if she were playing host. She let Therese get right to work peeling potatoes. 

Carrie grilled Therese about what she was working on - she always pushed her to be more assertive in the networking side of her business. It was good advice, of course, but came unnaturally to Therese. Perhaps hence the pushing, Therese thought. She told Carrie about Ruby, about her mentions of MFAs and residencies. 

The week prior, Therese had again found herself alone in the studio with only Ruby. This time painting the sunlight streaming through a window shading and contouring Carol’s face - eyes closed and resting, hair splayed on a pillow - was the subject of Therese’s obsession. She spent hours on the details and Ruby sat with her for much of it. 

If it wasn’t MFAs that interested Therese, she should really consider residencies, Ruby said. One for the summer and then others beyond. Ruby regretted that most of her knowledge and contacts were of places on the west coast, but if Therese was ever interested, Ruby could tell her all about them, guide her through the process. She told her about two residencies - one in Michigan and another in New Hampshire that Therese should absolutely apply to. They were competitive, and Therese doubted she’d be chosen, but Ruby had confidence in Therese and it made Therese feel a pride in her work that didn’t happen all too often. 

When she told Carrie all of this, her face bloomed. “Sweetie, that’s a great idea for you. I know Dannie talks about doing something like that all the time and I never understand why you two don’t just go for it.”

“They can get expensive.”

Carrie clicked her tongue and hummed. Money hadn’t been a major issue for their family, Therese knew, but Carrie still would understand Therese’s reservations. 

“I think that’s a bridge you cross when you come to it.”

Sometimes it wasn’t that easy. Residencies meant living somewhere else for months, depending on the residency, it could mean almost a year. Summer ones could mean weeks of a fully-immersive program with no option to have a day job. But it didn’t mean Therese would rule out the idea. For now, though, she wanted the subject changed. 

And right on schedule came Carrie’s new topic. “Well, of course I have to ask: are you seeing anyone? Any boys? Girls?”

As Carrie would say: she was hip, she was “with it.” Phil always said his mom “knows what’s up.”

All of this meaning, Carrie might have prayed before eating (she’d make them all do it today, not catching Therese and Dannie opening their eyes to make faces at one another), but she was down with the gay thing. Or in Therese’s case, the bi thing.

“I met the most incredible woman who I spend every second of my life thinking about to the point where she’s the only subject of my work. She’s the love of my life and I can’t wait for you to meet her…” is what Therese absolutely did _not_ say. She said it in her mind, though. 

Her real response was, “I wish, Carrie, but no.”

——

She’d been texting Carol throughout the day when she could, when it wasn’t impolite. She sent Carol a picture of Dannie’s parents’ dogs, told her about Dannie’s cousin’s girlfriend who had the intellect of a pile of dirt ( _“there’s just nothing going on up there._ ”), and about how she really helped Dannie’s mom cook - more than boiling vegetable stock.

Work had been the basis of Carol’s day, apparently, and Therese was confident that was true. She was going to order Chinese food later and try to really read her book - not just think about it and set it aside. 

Using the excuse of an entire second Thanksgiving to attend, Therese didn’t eat much at the McElroy’s. Carrie thought it was sweet that Therese was going back to her apartment to spend time with her roommates. That sentiment almost made Therese feel bad, but if Carrie knew the truth, she’d be just as supportive. Maybe even with renewed enthusiasm. But that wasn’t the case and it wouldn’t be tonight, so Therese said a series of farewells with plenty of thanks thrown in, hugged Carrie and Dannie and Phil and a few cousins and aunts and left for the bus station. The bus took her to 175th street, making for an easy transfer to the C. On the bus, she’d texted Carol, pretending to still be at Dannie’s. 

Therese didn’t know why, but she wanted to surprise Carol. It made her nervous, not knowing if Carol would like that or not, but she stuck to the plan regardless. She’d blame spotty cell reception on the delay of her texts while she was on the train. It wasn’t an outlandish story. Besides, it was almost true - the cell service underground _was_ spotty. Nearly nonexistent.

When she deboarded the train in Prospect Heights, she messaged Carol immediately.

_What are you up to now?_

She received a reply almost immediately. It made Therese happy and sad at the same time.

 _Filing my nails, watching Alien (it’s just on tv, plus Sigourney Weaver), waiting for my food_.

Therese picked up her pace, determined to get there before the food. She pressed the buzzer to Carol’s apartment when she arrived, knowing if Carol was expecting delivery, she’d come right downstairs to pick it up.

Keeping her arrival a surprise turned out to be beyond worth it. When Carol opened the door and saw Therese standing there, Therese watched her face become warm and soft and her smile spread at the corners. 

“What are you doing here?” Carol was shy, still standing in the doorway in her black leggings and oversized sweater. She didn’t let Therese answer before she sprung into her arms and Therese felt her bury her eyes in her shoulder, like she had the first time she cried in front of Therese, only now it was the third time. 

It wasn’t hard, Carol wasn’t sobbing or anything, but Therese could hear a sniffle that was different from the kind brought on by the cold. She didn’t have to ask why Carol was crying, because she knew, and because Carol said, “I’m just so happy you’re here,” without moving from Therese’s embrace. As much as Carol brushed off the holiday, making comments about the weird obsession with celebrating a bunch of stolen land and genocide, Therese knew what it felt like being bombarded with pictures and postings of everyone being with family and loved ones on a day she couldn’t do the same. It hurt. And Therese didn’t want Carol to hurt. Especially not when Therese could help it.

The food came before they went inside and Therese wondered how long they’d stand out there in the unseasonably freezing air if they hadn’t been interrupted. Forever, if Therese had her way.

They went up to Carol’s apartment and ate lo mein and read fortunes from their cookies - all ridiculous, but they’d both be very rich, very soon if the predictions proved correct. They finished _Alien_ and moved onto _Twin Peaks._ Carol acted like she couldn’t get close enough to Therese, gluing herself to her side while they ate, stealing kisses after every bite. When they laid down, Carol’s arm held tightly around Therese’s waist and up between her breasts. She breathed on the back of her neck and nipped at her jaw and said, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day.” 

And this time it was Therese’s turn to say, “you have no idea.”

——

Crying was scary for Carol. She hated the vulnerability, the rawness of it and the feelings that accompanied. She’d tried so hard to hold it in that first time she’d cried in front of Therese, but it hadn’t worked. 

Had it been Cynthia, Carol would’ve been met with annoyance and crossed arms because her job couldn’t be _that_ difficult. Taylor always left the room when Carol cried. Cassie feigned sympathy, but she was largely incapable. 

Therese was everything Carol didn’t know she needed. She held her and listened and waited - she didn’t let Carol apologize. She was allowed to be unguarded with Therese.

In a previously useless small glass container in the drawer of one of her bedside tables, Carol kept small mementos of time she spent with Therese. It seemed juvenile, but had started out of necessity and built from there - the latest being the fortune from her Thanksgiving fortune cookie. A museum guide from the New Museum, the ticket stub from _A Star is Born_ , the twist-tie ring, the small menu from Abby’s wine dinner, the cork from the bottle of wine they drank on their first date, an extra of Therese’s stickers, her birthday card, and a wine label: _Raventos i Blanc ‘de Nit.’_ The bottle was stowed carefully in Carol’s bag while she waited for Abby to meet her in Washington Square Park - right after Therese had left that afternoon of her birthday. 

However horrible the idea seemed at the time, however stupidly implausible, Carol had fallen totally and completely, head-over-heels in love that day, and she hadn’t stopped falling since.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and if anyone wants a good wine recommendation: that bottle of Raventos mentioned, once the weather warms up a bit...perfect. Sparkling rosé, fucking delicious.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to start by saying how truly grateful and amazed I am at the wonderful and thoughtful feedback you all gift me with every chapter. The last one was especially great. There's not one shred of exaggeration when I say that knowing my writing is being enjoyed by so many of you makes me more and more excited with each chapter.
> 
> That said, here's a really terrible gift in exchange.

Mondays were an odd day that Therese didn’t particularly enjoy. Not to be cliché, they just didn’t offer much good. A big reason was that she worked and Carol did not. Not typically, at least. 

After spending Sunday night at Carol’s, Therese was woken up the next day to Carol scratching the back of her scalp. She felt little, feathery kisses at her cheekbone.

“Baby,” Carol was whispering but it was in an attempt to wake Therese up and she reached out to push Carol away. “Hey, ouch. I’m just letting you know I have to leave.”

“ _No_ , don’t go.” Therese was feeling particularly whiny.

Plus, it was Monday. Therese could usually count on sleeping in with Carol and hanging out until she had to get ready for work. But Carol said she had to.

Therese’s eyes opened, finding Carol looking back at her, her hair dangling down, dusting at Therese’s cheeks. 

“Why?” 

“I have a meeting with Harge, Michael, Jeanette, Crystal...everyone, pretty much.”

It was like a game of ‘pick what doesn’t belong.’ “Crystal, like, hostess-Crystal?”

Carol sighed and laid down next to Therese. “Well, she might be manager-Crystal when the new restaurant opens. Everything is yet-to-be-determined. There’s plenty of time to move things around.”

Therese clicked her tongue in understanding and turned to watch Carol stare at the ceiling for a minute. Since Therese had started working at the restaurant, there was Michael and the owner’s third venture in the making. It hadn’t really been something she paid much attention until Carol had begun talking more about it in the past few weeks, because even though the next place was far from opening - at least half a year away - it eventually would weigh heavy on the status of Carol’s and Harge’s and Jeanette’s respective positions. 

“All right, I really do have to leave. I’m already going to be late.” Carol popped up from the bed and kissed Therese, adding that Therese could, of course, keep sleeping as long as she wanted and that there was cold brew in the fridge. 

It was well past 1pm when Therese woke up again. This time to somebody _banging_ on Carol’s door. She figured she would ignore it - probably maintenance or a landlord or something Therese didn’t want nor need to deal with - but she looked through the beep hole anyway. She’d at least let Carol know who tried to stop by. But on the other side stood Jessica and Tessie. Therese thought about not opening up. She glanced in the mirror - not totally presentable, but nothing beyond ‘just waking up.’ Before Carol’s friends thought to turn to leave, Therese turned the lock and opened the door. 

She watched their faces flash from expectant to confused and finally settle on what would best be read as pleasant surprise. 

Jessica quickly eyed Tessie and then looked back to Therese. “Oh, hey Therese. What’s going on?”

“Hi, sorry. Carol isn’t here.” Therese said it and then felt rude. It wasn’t quite an answer to Jessica’s question. But she’d been caught off guard, suddenly feeling awkward being alone in Carol’s apartment.

A pout escaped Tessie’s lips and she rolled her eyes, but still grinned back at Therese. “Where is she?” Not ready for an answer, she continued, “I specifically play hookie on a Monday knowing she has the day off…”

Unsure of how much detail Jessica and Tessie knew about Carol’s job, Therese did her best with a brief explanation of Carol’s meeting - the future restaurant and all of that. But Jessica seemed to easily follow. “Oh, right.” She glanced at Tessie knowingly. “I bet you anything she starts doing Harge’s job when this place gets closer to opening and they don’t pay her a _cent_ more, just like they’re doing right now.” 

When Tessie and Jessica shook their heads and laughed lightly - not at Carol’s expense, but sarcastically, at their perceived unfairness of the situation. Therese did her best to act like she understood. But she didn’t. Aside of day-to-day frustrations, Carol rarely divulged much information about the intricacies of her job - what it entailed and never about what she was paid. It hadn’t bothered Therese until exactly that moment, standing with two of Carol’s closest friends who clearly were better acquainted with the matter than Therese was. 

It wasn’t as if Therese expected a copy of Carol’s contract and her bank statements, but if she was annoyed enough to tell Jessica and Tessie, she could hopefully manage to share bits and pieces with Therese. And, sure, it might not have been any of her business what Carol was paid, but the notion that it was an untouchable subject felt archaic to Therese. There was also the fact that Carol knew _exactly_ how much money Therese made, down to the penny. 

Approaching the topic in a way that wasn’t forced would be tricky, if not impossible, and Therese considered it was maybe best to accept she wouldn’t be privy to that part of Carol’s life. 

Jessica and Tessie could’ve left when the short conversation came to a close, but they made a point to ask Therese how she was doing, how work was (and when Therese began talking about the restaurant, Jessica corrected her, “I meant your _real_ work, not your day job, though I’m glad that’s all fine, too.”), and mentioned - genuinely, not out of obligation - that they should all hang out soon. It excited Therese to have Carol’s friends so interested in her, and so supportive of her relationship with Carol. But with that excitement came a familiar unsettled feeling that Therese couldn’t quite place. 

\------

It had been colder on Thanksgiving than it was during the first week of December. Never one to wish the warmth away, Therese didn’t mind not needing her heavy winter coat just yet. It might’ve been the nicest item of clothing she owned, but that didn’t mean she was begging to wear it or anything.

A couple blocks from the restaurant, she was met with the sight of Carol walking her way, her expression changing noticeably even under her sunglasses when she saw Therese. 

Therese slowed her walk and let Carol approach her. It was strange meeting up with her and not being able to kiss her senseless. But they hadn’t expected to run into one another and their proximity to work made it too iffy to do more than talk. _That_ Therese took no issue with.

Carol’s head cocked to the side. “Well, well, well. Almost on time, I see.” She poked Therese’s waist and when she crossed her arms, Therese became aware of how close they were standing. 

She took a step back. “Are you just now heading home?”

Dropping the playfulness, Carol explained. “I’m not, actually. I’m going to the bank - first for work and then for me. And then, I’ll be back at work. Mary called out sick and Crystal can’t host by herself, obviously, so I’m just going to work with her.” 

And just like that, Carol’s day off turned into what would become almost another twelve hour workday. Therese was about to meet her with sympathy, knowing how burnt out Carol had become as of late, but Carol assured her that it was okay. 

“I sort of volunteered myself. I don’t really mind, because, well…you’ll be there.” 

That shyness Carol could barely hide beneath her sunglasses was enough to drive Therese insane with needing to kiss her, to pull at her ears and tickle her neck and tell her that she loved her _so much._ But she couldn’t, wouldn’t. Not so close to work. And not yet. She let her heart melt silently, instead. 

About to go their separate ways, Therese caught Carol’s attention before much distance was put between them. “Hey,” Therese said and Carol turned back, looking on questioningly. “You look beautiful.”

Therese only waited long enough to watch Carol’s breath hitch before she walked away, making it to work almost on-time. 

She clocked-in and found Dannie already there, polishing silverware and resetting tables that had been disheveled during the earlier meeting. More and more Therese had been scheduled to work at the same time as Dannie - or rather, Dannie to work at the same times as her, given her schedule rarely changed. Whether it was a happy coincidence or purposeful on Carol’s part, Therese was unsure. Asking might make Carol defensive, so Therese hadn’t.

When they were folding linens, Carol returned, two large cardboard boxes in hands, and stopped at the table where they sat. “Stop doing that,” she motioned to the piles of napkins, “and help me with _these_ instead, please.”

Therese shrugged at Dannie as they got up to follow Carol to the bar. Inside the boxes were wine glasses. Apparently, the week before, Carol watched helplessly as Jack dropped an entire tray of burgundy stems - in an empty dining room, luckily - and before she helped him clean up, she wordlessly walked to her laptop, opened it, and ordered more. Jack told the story as he helped Dannie, Therese, and Carol load the glasses into the dishwasher behind the bar. 

Doing an outstandingly accurate impression of Carol, Jack closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, and shook his head. 

“I do not look like that.”

There was a long pause, and then everyone at once argued, “yes, you do.”

Carol’s cheeks flushed and she looked away, but smirked. “It’s _affectionate_ disappointment. It comes from a place of _love._ ”

Just hearing the word _love_ stressed so pointedly from Carol sent shivers down Therese’s spine. Hearing them was much more real than imagining, but the context was off and the words hadn’t even been said about her. Thankfully, the conversation turned to the holiday that was eight days away - who people were bringing, specifically, the liberties they taking in order to bring friends or weird Tinder hookups. Dannie made a joke about Therese bringing Katie - the girl she’d made up as an excuse for the hickey on her neck - and the perplexed look Jack gave Carol sent a wave of awkwardness over the discussion.

Dannie surveyed the group. “Did I...miss something?”

Always able to recover smoothly, Carol brushed it off, saying that Dannie had essentially described the type of situation the managers had been dealing with in planning this party. 

Therese just stared into the beyond-polished wine glass in her hands and thought about just how much Dannie had missed. 

\------

Never much of a procrastinator when it came to gift buying, Therese insisted her and Carol go to the Union Square Holiday Market on Tuesday. It was only the fourth day into December, Carol pointed out, but Therese rebutted with making note of Carol’s ever-dwindling free-time. She’d put it off for a couple weeks and then agonize about having left it too long. 

“Seems to really be the time-of-year for everybody to hold a mirror to my face, isn’t it?” Carol narrowed her eyes and pushed Therese back onto her bed when she tried to get up, pinning Therese’s hands down with her knees and propping her body up with her hands on Therese’s shoulders. “Fine. We can go Christmas shopping. _Later._ First I’d like to keep you in here for a while to make up for yesterday morning.”

It was a compromise Therese could live with. 

When they eventually did leave for Manhattan, Carol was pleased with how cold the weather had become overnight. She cold suited her, she said. Therese hated when Carol made digs at herself like that, talking about herself as cold and mean. It just fed into the very wrong perception people like Gen or even Dannie had of Carol. And as much as Therese was dying to change that, she couldn’t outright. And if Dannie thought of Carol as standoffish, Therese knew he was close to his mom like Carol was with her own, and hoped he didn’t say things about Carol to her when he talked about work. 

But Carol wasn’t referencing her personality. “It’s not that I don’t like the sun, we just don’t mix. I wear SPF 50 on my face even in the winter. I wasn’t just born _in_ the Pacific Northwest, I was born _for_ it.”

Therese did enjoy Carol’s clothing in for the cooler season, too. She had an abundance of scarves and hats and gloves that were, for whatever reason, mesmerizing to watch Carol put on. Long after Therese had picked out what to borrow, she watched while Carol stood in front of her mirror and wrapped a scarf around her neck, pulling on her Patagonia parka over it all. 

Carol squinted and smiled when she saw Therese staring. “What?”

“Nothing at all.”

It was a lie but Therese had grown used to lying. The truth was that she loved Carol and she wanted to say it right then and there, but something was stopping her. She told herself it was because she was scared, but that wasn’t quite the truth, either. Therese heard the way Carol breathed out her name into her ear when she came, she saw the way Carol looked at her when she thought she wouldn’t be caught, she felt Carol’s heartbeat race even if they were just lying on her couch. Therese told herself she was afraid - afraid of rejection - but she wasn’t really. There was something else stopping her from telling Carol how she felt and it whatever it was, she didn’t particularly like it. 

On the train, they went over their lists of who they were buying presents for. Therese had hers memorized. It rarely changed year-to-year. “Dannie, Dannie’s parents, Bethany - she’s a friend from school, lives in Chicago now - my roommates, and Gavin.” Unspoken was Carol, obviously, and Gen, because she was the type of person who gave gifts to all of her friends, and Therese wanted to be prepared in return.

Carol’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who’s Gavin?”

Sensing her jealousy, Therese gave her a look. “ _Gavin_ is my friend and my old roommate and he’s very gay. We met at Cooper Union. He does some acting now, though. I went to see his play on your birthday.”

Nodding in remembrance, Carol went to defend herself. “I wasn’t jealous, I was just…” Her voice and eyes trailed off after the futile attempt. 

Just jealous, Therese knew. Therese got jealous too, she was just better at hiding it. Or maybe Carol was better at reassuring her, but sometimes reassurance was tough when Therese had to balance it with things like explaining away Carol’s bite marks by inventing a stranger at a bar. 

Therese tugged at Carol’s scarf to direct her attention back to her. “You’re so cute, come here.”

It made Carol look at Therese intensely before kissing her. When she pulled away, she was back to smiling, and Therese asked for her list. 

“My parents, my sister and her husband, my niece and nephew, Rindy, Abby and Alexandra, Harge, Jeanette, Jack, and Tessie.” Carol read from a list she had written down on her phone. Therese knew it had been transcribed from a handwritten one she’d found in a notebook Carol had, probably unintentionally, left open. Therese’s name was first on that one and included a heart beside it. After gazing at it for what felt like hours, it was burned into her brain. 

But Therese’s name wasn’t the only absence. “Not Jessica?” 

“No. Jessica and I were like, ‘let’s not this year.’ I’m giving her a bunch of wine and she’s tattooing me for free.”

Touching up her tattoos, Therese thought Carol meant, but she hadn’t. She was getting a new one. Maybe. And after some prodding (or a lot - they were halfway through the Holiday Market when she caved), Carol finally told Therese what she was thinking about getting. It was a drawing done for her by her niece, Ava. Carol kept it in her wallet. Therese recognized the style because several adorned Carol’s fridge and one was even framed on her wall. This one was of a bouquet of wildflowers - and it wasn’t all that bad. 

As Therese inspected the drawing, Carol continued, “she sends me drawings all the time and I just miss her and my nephew so much. I feel like they’re growing up and I’m missing everything. Also this particular drawing is so great because she’s four and somehow remembered that I love wildflowers. Obviously Jessica is going to…professionalize it, a bit.”

By the time Therese looked up from the crayon bouquet of cornflowers and poppies and chicory, Carol’s waiting became anxious. She wanted approval. 

“This is such a wonderful idea.” Therese meant every word. “You will love this tattoo forever and it will be beyond encouraging to Ava. I’m serious. The only reason I continued drawing and painting and sketching was because of all of the positive reinforcement I received. Otherwise I never would have kept it up. This is, like, the ultimate form of that.”

Carol smiled and knocked her forehead against Therese’s, then folded the drawing back into her wallet with a look of adoration and homesickness. 

They went to B&H Dairy for dinner. Carol had simply uttered the words “matzo ball soup” and the idea had been stuck in Therese’s head all evening. Therese hadn’t been to B&H in months and it was one place that they knew had completely vegetarian soup. It was also great and cheap and unpretentious to say the absolute least - unpretentious in the sense that nothing had changed since the 1940s. Why fix what so obviously wasn’t broken?

It was hard to call B&H a restaurant, or even a diner - it was just one long counter and a few narrow tables on the opposite wall. There weren’t two stools next to each other, so Therese and Carol slid into one of the two tops and rejected menus when offered, ordering the soup and as much challah bread as they could get without forcing them to bake more.

Therese was always pleased with how much she made Carol laugh. It was satisfying finding a person who shared such a similar sense of humor. And that’s what Carol was doing - laughing, head tilted back slightly and eyes closed - when a woman came up behind her and covered her hands over her eyes. Carol’s nose scrunched in confusion. Therese was confused too. The woman behind Carol was very tall and very thin and tan and had long strawberry blonde hair. Her nails were short and painted with glittery polish. She held Therese’s gaze in an almost challenging way that made Therese’s smile falter. 

Putting her hands around the woman's forearms, ready to remove them from her face, Carol said, “I honestly have no idea.” But then she sniffed the woman’s wrist and added, “never mind. Your perfume still smells disgusting, Cassidy.”

Cassidy leaned down to Carol’s ear. “Well, the only reason I knew it was you was from your obnoxious fucking laugh. I was literally at the other end of the restaurant and heard it.”

Turning around, Carol snapped back. “This place is about twenty feet long.”

Therese couldn’t decide if Carol was really mad or not, but then she stood up and gave Cassie a quick hug - so she probably wasn’t, though the hug was clearly obligatory for both parties. She introduced Therese to Cassidy, and upon hearing Therese was Carol’s girlfriend, Cassidy tilted her head and gave Therese sad eyes. “My deepest sympathies.”

Therese watched as the two talked, not bothering with pleasantries other than, “still doing the restaurant thing?”

Carol didn’t answer, choosing instead to ask, “still doing the standing-around-doing-nothing and having your picture taken thing?”

“Actually, no,” Cassidy replied. “I’ve moved on to other ventures.”

“Is that what you’re calling aging-out now? Moving on?” Carol’s arms crossed and her eyebrow raised. “You have let yourself go, haven’t you? Should I assume you were actually _eating_ here?”

Tuning the two out as they did some strange form of conversing, Therese racked her brain to place the name. _Cassidy._ Therese knew of a _Cassie,_ and that was Carol’s ex-girlfriend. Even if it was the most logical explanation, she refused to believe this woman, in all of her wavy long hair and legs-for-days and pouty pink lips was someone Carol had dated. Not that Carol _couldn’t_ date someone like Cassidy - oh no, that definitely wasn’t the case - but Cassidy looked like _that._ And Therese did not. Therese also didn’t love the idea of the knowledge of their relationship expanding all the way into Carol’s exes when Therese’s confidants included all of one: Ruby.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Cassidy yell a goodbye while dashing out of the diner. 

Carol sat down and apologized. She just picked at her bread, oblivious to Therese’s puzzlement. Therese would have to begin, she supposed. “So…who was that?”

“Cassidy. I think I’ve mentioned her. Probably as Cassie. We dated, oh, I don’t know, maybe seven years ago now? She’s pretty much my only ex-girlfriend that I’m on pretty good terms with.”

Therese hadn’t realized that that was what _good_ terms looked like, but sure. She wouldn’t push. She was too focused on herself now, anyway, suddenly growing self-conscious. 

“That was Cassie? Seriously?”

But Carol didn’t understand Therese’s disbelief, that Therese got jealous like Carol did, too. And she tilted her head questioningly. Therese ran her finger around the rim of her cup of Diet Coke, pointing out that the woman who just left was essentially a supermodel.

“I guess. She’s just way too tall and has great tits. That’s why she was an _underwear model._ She’s cute, but that’s it. Besides, she’s extremely boring. Really fulfills the vapid model stereotype.” Carol spoke matter-of-factly, but Therese was unconvinced. Carol grabbed Therese’s hand from across the table to get her attention. “Therese. She’s my ex for a reason. I don’t like her. I don’t want to be with her - ”

“You said she broke up with you.” She knew she was being difficult.

Smirking a bit at the comment, Carol sighed. “ _Okay._ Sure. But we aren’t together now because we never should’ve been in the first place. I don’t think about her. I don’t think about any of my exes. I don’t miss them. At all. I think about _you._ I miss _you_ when I haven’t seen you in just a couple of hours.”

Again Therese wanted to tell Carol she loved her but didn’t.

\-----

The unnerving feeling Therese had been experiencing overwhelmed her and reared its head the following Sunday. It was after work, at Carol’s apartment, and they’d begun talking about their respective plans for Christmas on the train ride home. By the time they’d made it inside, they were both frustrating each other. 

Every year, Therese spent the night at Dannie’s parents’ house. For the past few, either one of them or both had to work on Christmas Eve - this year not being an exception - and they’d take the bus late at night and spend all of Christmas Day there. Therese hadn’t planned on things going differently, but she would like to get to spend time with her girlfriend that day, “ _crazy_ thought, I know.” Therese was agitated. It wasn’t just about Christmas.

Clearly trying to keep things from escalating further, Carol kept a steady tone. “I told you that you’re welcome to come to Abby’s. She already said as much.”

“I can’t just keep making up excuses to leave the Dannie’s parents’ holiday things, Carol. It makes me feel bad.”

Carol crossed her arms, taking a moment to find her words. “I don’t know what to tell you, then. You don’t have to come to Abby’s. It sucks, but it's fine.”

The real question came next. “Why can’t I just tell Dannie what’s going on?”

Carol spoke sternly now, in a way that wasn’t meant for Therese to challenge her. “Because, Dannie can’t keep anything to himself. You know that. I know that. Once he knows, everyone will know.”

“And is that the worst thing in the world?”

Carol didn’t know if it was but she didn’t want to find out. When she said it, Therese practically growled. She let Carol know how unfair it all felt, how much she wanted to talk about Carol with her friends like Carol could with her own, how Therese hadn’t ever had to hide things about herself with the people she loved, and starting now felt like taking so many steps backward. “The only person who even knows that you’re my girlfriend is _Ruby!”_

And Carol responded with the worst possible question. “Who’s Ruby?”

Done arguing, Therese just said, “exactly.”

Therese grabbed her bag and went to put on her coat. Carol looked bewildered. “Where are you going?”

When she pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, Therese felt like Carol. “Home. I just need to be alone. I want to think and figure things out.”

It was hard to watch Carol panic, and Therese had to keep her gaze lowered while she opened the front door. 

“ _No._ Don’t go.” Carol looked ready to cry. “Please.”

But Therese had to think - mostly she needed Carol to think. Because Therese knew what she wanted, but she needed Carol to want it just as much. She was tired of the disparity. Before shutting the door she told Carol she’d text her “or something.”

The next day was a Monday that Therese _really_ did not enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still want to hear from you, even if you're mad at me. Because I love you and this agony won't last long.


	18. Chapter 18

For the sixth or seventh (eighth?) time that night, Carol turned over to sleep on her other side, switching from lying on her left to lying on her right. A half hour earlier she’d done the opposite, and an hour before, the same. She wasn’t really sleeping, she was just waiting for the next day. It was 5:25am. 

Carol had been crying for over five hours now. First they were sobs, with her face jammed into her pillow (black mascara _everywhere_ , she’d have to change her pillowcases). The sobs subsided into silent tears, frustrating ones that slid down over the bridge of her nose and into her hair. The crying stuffed her nose up on whichever side she was lying, hence the methodical tossing and turning. 

This time two days ago had been far different. It was Friday night then - or early Saturday morning, rather - and her and Therese had stayed up far too late. It began when, after about half an hour of lying silently in bed, they both realized the other was still awake, unable to sleep. 

“Should we listen to music?” Carol had offered.

It couldn’t be distracting, though. Therese wouldn’t ever sleep if she was listening to something with lyrics, and she turned down Frank Ocean and Kid Cudi.

“But what if the lyrics are unintelligible?” Carol asked. 

That was the compromise - and Carol put on _Heaven or Las Vegas_ , which delighted Therese. Carol scratched Therese’s back lightly, hoping at least for _her_ to get some rest. She thought Therese had drifted off but was then startled when her eyes opened effortlessly when the title track came on. 

“What are they saying besides ‘heaven or Las Vegas?’”

Therese’s wonder always made Carol laugh. 

“I don’t know, but that’s the point, isn’t it? For the Cocteau Twins _and_ you. No lyrics. Yet, here we are, discussing the words.” 

It opened up a conversation about Las Vegas. Therese hadn’t ever been, Carol had a few times, the last not that long ago. 

“Alexandra’s last promotion. She wanted to celebrate, like, _a lot_. It was them, me, Jess, Tessie, and Tessie’s husband David.” Carol remembered it both fondly and hesitantly. The hangover from the trip had lasted days. 

Playing with and inspecting some strands of Carol’s hair, Therese asked, “what did you do there?”

“Excuse me, don’t you know the saying?” Carol was only teasing - she hadn’t done anything that needed to ‘stay in Vegas,’ but Therese lowered her gaze at the implication. “I’m just kidding. We drank by the pool, we gambled, we drank more. I feel like every time I’ve been to Vegas, I never had any idea what time it was. There were some times it could’ve been either noon or midnight and it didn’t matter either way, because we just kept drinking regardless.”

Carol shuddered - the trip had been a blast but it was at a time when she was still taking a hefty dose of antidepressants and she probably shouldn’t have been as reckless as she’d been. A year and a half ago, though, Carol didn’t think she had much reason to take better care of herself.

“So, if the choice is Heaven or Las Vegas, does that make Las Vegas hell?” Before Carol could be a smart-ass, Therese answered her own question. “Right. Sin City. Duh…Garden of Earthly Delights.”

Then Therese had asked Carol that if Las Vegas was hell, where was heaven? And Carol wanted to say, “right here, with you,” but she didn’t, for fear of being teased. Instead she asked, “personally? Or largely?”

“Personally.”

Carol had an answer, but she was more interested in Therese. “You first.”

“Hmm, okay.” Therese thought for a moment, and then surprised Carol. “I’m going with San Luis Obispo. I went a couple years ago with Dannie and - your favorite - _Gavin_. Fucking perfect place.”

San Luis Obispo was a great answer. “I can get behind that. I love San Luis Obispo.”

“Okay, now you.”

“Alright. Portland.”

Therese quirked an eyebrow. “ _Portland?_ Really?”

Really. 

Therese had never been and didn’t understand Carol’s reasoning. But it was simple: first of all, she loved it. She had since the first time she visited with her family when she was a teenager. And then there was the weather, the proximity to her family, the running trails, the wine. And now she’d talked it up enough to peak Therese’s interest. 

“We’ll go sometime.”

Yes, it was hard to believe that conversation and the hours following had taken place just forty eight hours before. Carol figured that _of course_ she was capable of doing enough damage in that small amount of time to cause Therese to storm off like she had. 

There was a good reason other than emotional turmoil for Carol to not be able to sleep: how could she even think of doing so when Therese could text her at any moment? Several times throughout the night, Carol had started messages she never wound up sending.

_I’m sorry._

Wouldn’t cut it.

 _Please come back_.

No. Therese wanted some space and Carol would give it to her.

 _I love you_.

Absolutely fucking not. Not in a text.

Carol settled with nothing, reminding herself that Therese said _she_ would text _her_. Sometimes things couldn’t and shouldn’t be rushed. Carol didn’t want to further frustrate Therese, after all.

By the time Carol managed to rest, the sun was up.

——

“Did you know Aunt Petunia is gay IRL?” Jessica passed Carol’s vape to Tessie and coughed quietly after dispelling her ever-important bit of info.

“Is she tall? She seems tall.” Tessie asked nobody in particular and appeared to begin searching for her answer, clicking through her phone. 

Carol had told Jessica bits and pieces of what had transpired between her and Therese the night before, and Jessica immediately came to keep her company, convincing Tessie to come straight up to Carol’s apartment after work, as well. _Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars._

And so they sat, already done with _Half Blood Prince_ and beginning _Deathly Hallows_. Somewhere in Carol and Jessica’s years of friendship, it had become standard to “smoke weed and watch Harry Potter,” whenever one of them needed cheering up. They couldn’t say it always worked - because girls were heartbreakers - and now it Carol felt a tinge of melancholy whenever she heard the theme song, but it was their traditional practice.

Nothing was helping Carol’s mood, her growing anxiety. Therese still hadn’t texted. Carol could feel herself shutting down, closing off when Jessica or Tessie tried to get her to talk about it. 

“Oh, I hate this part,” Carol whined. She was sad and stoned and somehow getting even sadder as Tessie braided her hair because Therese usually played with her hair. “When Nigiri kills that teacher.”

“I swear to god, you call Nagini ‘Nigiri’ _one more time…”_ Jessica was funny when she was angry, but Carol couldn't bring herself to laugh.

“Nigiri sounds good though. Should we get sushi?” Tessie asked, and of course they should.

Carol’s phone pinged and both Jessica and Tessie were on alert. But it wasn’t Therese, it was just Abby. 

“Honey, can you explain more why Therese is upset?” Tessie tugged back on Carol’s hair to force her to make eye contact. 

After a long, drawn-out, procrastinating sigh, Carol replied. “No. I already told you and I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. She’s mad at me, she said she’d text and she hasn’t, I’ll probably be single by the end of the week. Let’s just drop it.”

Tessie lightly slapped and then kissed her cheek in response. 

“Carol, isn’t your work party tomorrow night?” Jessica asked as she ordered food, passing around her phone to get orders from the other two.

“You bet. Fucking finally.” She was both dreading and looking forward to the holiday party. On one hand, she didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything until she worked things out with Therese (and if they talked and it went badly, she’d probably just sit in her apartment forever and never leave again), on the other, she’d get to see Therese, and that was always a positive. Getting this party over and done with was a relief, too. 

She wondered if Therese would talk to her before then. It was looking less and less likely, and Carol wouldn’t hold her breath. She’d just spend another night obliterating her sleep schedule.

——

She could call out of work. She wanted to. It would be the first time Therese called out sick. But she managed to drag herself out of bed and into Manhattan and somehow made it into the restaurant - on time, too. 

It was strange not talking to Carol for such a long period of time. _Long_. Therese almost laughed at herself for thinking the word. It hadn’t even been a full day. But still, she missed her. So much. And maybe she’d overreacted the night before. Maybe she was being bratty. Carol had been clear from the beginning that whatever they had going on would have to be hush-hush. But that was a date. Now this became something Therese had never imagined. It was so much more and everything Therese wanted and continuing to have to hide it from such a large part of her life made her feel like she was living a double life, one where her other self wasn’t in any type of relationship. 

No, Therese had been right to get angry, she decided. Justifying it once again in her head brought up the same indignant feelings all over. She was planning to text Carol at work, but she’d wait. She wanted to think of a solution. She wanted _Carol_ to think of a solution. And that took time and energy and removal. 

On Tuesday, Gen asked what time she was going to the holiday party. Dannie was meeting Therese at her apartment and they planned to just head over when they felt like it. But they could probably pick a time and stick to it for Gen’s sake. It didn’t make sense for her to go all the way to Brooklyn to meet them, only to turn back and head back into Manhattan.

The bar where they were having the party was in the East Village. Apparently the previous year’s party was at a different place. The change in location, Dannie explained, probably had to do with the battle over the pool tables last year. This bar had pool tables _and_ ping-pong _and_ air hockey. 

As they passed the Spring Street station, Dannie talked about last year, about Carol. He couldn’t have known that it was making her upset. Because he _couldn’t know_. “Yeah, everyone was arguing over who got to play pool next and Carol was like, ‘what the fuck? I thought everyone just wanted to drink for free.’ Which was true, until people saw the pool table, then things changed.”

She was upset hearing about Carol because she was upset _with_ Carol. And with the situation in general. But an odd, masochistic part of Therese wanted Dannie to keep talking about her. 

“What else happened last year?”

They deboarded and walked upstairs, past the various NYU buildings (what part of Greenwich Village did NYU _not_ own, these days?), and past their own alma mater, all the while Dannie monologued about Fred trying to convince everyone to take tequila shots every ten minutes, how stupidly hot Harge’s wife was (Carol had mentioned this before, too), and Carol nearly on her deathbed the next day at work. 

From down the block behind them, Gen called their names. 

“Perfect timing!” She put a hop in her step to catch up. “I think nine was a good choice in time. If this thing really lasts until 2am, any earlier and we’d all be leaving with alcohol poisoning.”

During her first scan of the room, Therese didn’t find Carol. But upon second glance, she emerged from the bar, Harge following closely behind her, explaining something. She didn’t seem to see Therese yet, distracted by whatever was being said. 

She was wearing an old, worn out, slightly-too-big t-shirt that had the words _Los Angeles_ printed on the chest in faded letters, black skinny jeans, and black lace-up boots. And her makeup was minimal - especially for her - and her hair was disheveled and she looked positively fucking _radiant_. Exhausted, but still like a dream. 

And then she saw Therese. Carol didn’t flinch. Therese could see her want to smile, but it was lost somewhere. 

Time continued on around them, Therese noticed, and somehow Dannie had made his way from next to Therese to ten feet in front of her, shaking Harge’s hand in that pseudo-formal greeting men insisted on giving one another. 

Carol’s nostrils flared as she exhaled, taking in Therese and then Gen. “Hi guys, glad you could make it.”

“Hey, Carol,” Gen was being cutesy - probably excited for the night ahead. She gave a little kick to Carol’s shin while removing her coat. “Are we going to have mystery drinks like last year and you can smoke all of my cigarettes again?”

Smoke Gen’s cigarettes? Therese smirked at the thought, considering how gross Carol thought cigarettes were - only when she was sober, apparently.

“ _Do not_ let me do that again,” Carol turned pink and looked at Gen sternly, but laughed. 

“But Carol, you’re my manager. I have to do what you ask. And if you ask to bum a cig - ” Gen shrugged, the last words of her sentence being met with a firm _whack_ to her arm by the paper in Carol’s hands.

Pointing at the bar, Carol made demands. “Go get drinks. Now. Milk this place for as much alcohol as you can. We need to get our money’s worth.”

When Carol walked away, she didn’t look Therese in the eye - she looked down and Therese watched her go and then pull Jeanette into a conversation.

Two minutes later, a vodka soda was placed in her hand by Gen, who was telling Therese about the latest in her long-standing battle with her downstairs neighbor. Therese heard herself responding appropriately, but she wasn’t paying attention to a word of it, because she could see Carol over Gen’s shoulder. More and more people were arriving, and the room was getting crowded, occasionally obstructing her view, but glimpses alone were sustaining Therese for the time being. 

But watching Carol talk familiarly with a woman Therese had never seen before - a stunning woman, with long black hair and dark eyes and blemishless bronzed skin - was not a wonderful sight. Carol was touching the woman’s wrist and laughing at her jokes and _who was she?_

Her face must’ve betrayed her, because Gen stopped her story and tilted her head. 

Maybe Gen could help Therese out. “Do you know who that woman is? The one with Carol?”

Before she looked behind herself, Gen wiggled her eyebrows. “Ooh, _with_ Carol?” But her gossipy tone left when she turned around back to Therese. “Oh. Never mind. Well, actually, brace yourself.” Gen put both of her hands on Therese’s shoulders and put on her best serious expression, like she was delivering big news. “That is Annapurna. She is Harge’s wife.”

Well. Way to go Harge. But also, “shut the entire fuck up. That’s unreal.”

“I know,” Gen rubbed her hands up and down. “It’s a very unfair world we live in.”

Not for Therese it wasn’t, because standing next to Annapurna was Therese’s own jackpot of a woman. The woman that elevated her status from “Therese Belivet, 25-year-old moderately talented painter and occasional multidisciplinary artist” to “Therese Belivet, 25-year-old moderately talented painter and occasional multidisciplinary artist who happens to be the single luckiest human to ever live and who ever will live because - holy shit - Carol Aird wakes up everyday and still wants to be with her.”

Or Therese hoped she still did. That she hadn’t done enough damage and made Carol lose confidence in her. Just when she thought she’d lost sight of Carol, Harge started yelling for everyone’s attention. There was Carol, right next to him with Jeanette and Michael. Carol’s gaze wandered and then held Therese’s. Just before she could smile at Carol, try and communicate some type of solace, Harge’s booming voice stole everyone’s attention. 

“Hi everybody. I think this is pretty much it, right? Hopefully it is, because it’s fucking crowded in here.” People laughed and Harge went on, thanking them for coming, talking about how the restaurant had a _particularly_ fantastic year, and that the only reason it could be done was because of the “amazing staff.” It was all very sweet and sincere. But the real interest began when Harge mentioned prizes. 

“There’s only a few. Just for some specifically outstanding workers - though it doesn’t mean you aren’t all assets. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” He looked to Carol, who extracted a stack of gift cards from a little bag on the bar behind her. “These gifts are personalized for each recipient. You can thank Carol for that. Apparently she pays great attention to all of you.”

“Well,” Carol was blushing. “Don’t thank me yet. You might hate them.”

Whether she liked it or not, these people were Carol’s family, and Therese realized the gravity of how that affected their situation. She felt dumb for just now understanding, childish even. Carol didn’t _want_ to make Therese keep things a secret - but she also didn’t want to potentially cause rifts between herself and her coworkers, her employees who trusted her and depended on her. Therese didn’t need to tell Dannie yet. She needed Carol.

And, _oh, right._ Presents were being awarded. Harge gave the first to one of the dishwashers, Colton, for punctuality. And Carol handed him a Nike gift card. He loved it, because apparently Carol knew that he was the kind of person that waited outside the Nike store at ungodly early hours to get in line to buy a newly released sneaker - Therese was sure almost nobody else in the room was aware of that. A couple more were divvied out and then Gen got one for having the highest sales averages, and Therese could barely contain an eye-roll knowing how happy it had probably made her. She could be happy for her, though. 

When Gen stood back beside Therese, Therese asked what she’d been given. 

“One hundred dollars to the place where I get tattoos done. It’s…really thoughtful.” Gen sounded surprised, but Therese wasn’t. That was Carol. She was thoughtful.

There was one more, for bringing in the most tips on average. It seemed like it should go to Gen, as well, but Harge shook his head at the mention. “She’s up there, but it’s not Gen. This person consistently takes in extremely high tip percentages, padding all of your paychecks with money. So…everyone say thanks to Therese at some point tonight.”

 _That_ was a surprise. Therese had to approach Carol in order to take the little envelope from her hands, and she couldn’t help but wonder if all the people in the room with them could sense the intensity of the air around them. Carol smiled a little - probably out of necessity - and said, “good job,” before Therese turned away. 

Inside the envelope was a gift certificate for a hundred dollars to the art supply store where Therese bought her paints. 

Dannie looked over her shoulder. “I was wondering why Carol asked me where you got your supplies. Nice.”

What Dannie didn’t see was the little note Carol slipped between the hard plastic card and the holder. It was simple. All it said was, “ _you’re the best._ ” But it was worth the world.

She wanted to thank Carol properly, but that would be inappropriate given the setting. And given their current frostiness toward one another - an issue that so desperately needed a resolution. It wasn’t long before Therese had finished her second drink and was coasting into her third. She was meant to be keeping score in a tournament of air hockey that grew from just Gen and Dannie into all nine servers, but she was preoccupied with fixing her eyes on Carol instead. 

She talked to Harge, they did shots, she looked at Therese, then disappeared with Jack, she came back, looked at Therese more, finished another drink, and then, oddly, grabbed her coat and headed toward the door. That Lykke Li song about following rivers was playing and the apropos to the moment wasn’t lost on Therese; she’d follow Carol deep sea, dark doom, and all. 

And that’s what she did, she excused herself abruptly and followed Carol out the door.

It wasn’t raining, it was more of a misting. The air was damp and dark and cold. Given it was a Tuesday, not too much was happening on Sixth Street at almost 11pm, but there were still a few people taking up the narrow sidewalk in either direction, and Therese had to search for signs of which way Carol had walked. 

There was a distinct pink faux-fur trim on Carol’s black jacket that Therese could spot anywhere, including halfway down the block, heading toward First Ave. Therese took off to catch up to her, having to almost jog to get there. 

“Carol!”

——

Getting away from all of the noise helped. Well, it helped and it didn’t, because, though she could hear herself think, it meant she had to hear herself think - to be alone with her thoughts. She had felt dizzy in the bar. Not from the alcohol (okay, maybe a little bit from the alcohol) but from feeling so uncharacteristically tense around Therese. Therese normally brought her comfort and calm, she made Carol feel taken care of. And now Carol wasn’t sure what was happening - how to be around Therese. 

And then she heard her name. Therese calling out to her from behind like she had months ago. That night had been great, and Carol wished the déjà vu to last longer. 

She stopped and faced Therese, jacketless and out of breath. 

“Therese, what are you doing? It’s freezing. Go back - ”

Thank god Therese didn’t listen to her, and kissed her instead, because Carol couldn’t stand to watch her walk away from her again, even at her own direction. Therese was everything that Carol wanted, and she had planned to tell her she didn’t care if every single person at their work knew about them, Carol just hadn’t been granted the opportunity to _really_ speak with Therese. But Therese tracking her down on the street would have to do, because she didn’t want to wait longer, didn’t want Therese to have time to decide she was mad at her again.

It was hard to talk when she couldn’t stop kissing her, though. Finally, Therese pulled back, looking around to check the streets for signs of people they might know.

In her head, Carol had a whole thing planned. Apologies and explanations and promises, but what came out of her mouth was a shaky exhale accompanied by several stubborn tears. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re hiding anymore. I don’t care who knows - I can…deal with that. I’ll figure it out. I just can’t deal with not having you.” Carol was rambling, the words were coming too fast for her to do any editing. “I love you so fucking much and I don’t like being without you. Even just yesterday was so hard. I’ve been so sad.”

The grip Therese had on her hands was tightening, almost uncomfortably, and Carol didn’t know why until Therese whispered, “you love me?”

It was such a silly question. “Of course I do.”

Carol didn’t even care if Therese said it back. She just needed her to know. 

Therese’s fingers on her right hand traveled up Carol’s jaw and threaded into the hair behind her ear and her left hand came up to brush at the wet spots on her cheeks. She felt completely exposed and unable to hide but she had said what she said and that was that. 

An eternity passed, and then Therese said, “I love you, Carol.”

Not wanting to cry again, turn into a fountain, Carol pressed her lips onto Therese’s again, because what else was there to do?


	19. Chapter 19

The weight of a car, a house, the world, had been lifted from Therese’s chest, and how she stayed grounded through that kiss was a mystery.

When Carol’s lips left hers - only barely, not enough space for a hand but enough to not go cross-eyed when she opened her eyes to look at her - they both smiled. 

“Well, that’s good to know.” A very Carol response. Completely earnest and _completely_ understated. And then a more pressing matter took over. “Therese, why aren’t you wearing a coat? It’s below freezing.” 

“I had to - just, never mind. I forgot it. But where are you going? Are you leaving already?”

Carol threw her head back when she laughed and Therese blushed, confused. “God, no. Harge would kill me if I did. I have to stay at least another hour or so.”

It turned out the only reason Carol had left was to go to the bodega two blocks away. She had woken up late and had a list of things to do - like buying those gift cards - and hadn’t really had the chance to eat much of anything. She just left the bar to go grab a Clif bar, having already had a considerable amount to drink, figuring it was for the best. So Therese hadn’t had to follow her out the door and down the street. She was glad she did, though. 

“I’m glad you did, too.” Even Carol’s eyes looked happy. “Want to go back and get your coat and then come with me? You don’t have to, I - ”

Therese cut her off. “It would definitely be suspicious if I go back and then leave again with you. I should probably just go back and stay there.”

Confused, Carol cocked her head to the side. She had just told Therese she didn’t care about that, she could deal with the consequences, she said. But Therese shook her head. There wouldn’t be a world in which Therese would feel okay jeopardizing the trust and respect Carol had so carefully built with her coworkers and employees. Therese didn’t want Carol to walk on eggshells. 

Expecting relief, Therese was surprised when she was met with sadness. Guilt, rather, and Carol just said, “I at least want you to tell Dannie. It’s important to you. Please?”

That was an easy compromise, a no-brainer, but she’d have to beat the secrecy into Dannie. It could be done, she decided. When she left Carol to go back to the party, she realized she’d need some sort of excuse. Dannie or Gen, at the very least, would ask why she’d left so suddenly. Grateful to have her phone in her back pocket, it brought an easy solution. 

Sure enough, almost immediately upon arrival, Gen spotted her from the bar. “Hey, where’d you go?”

“My roommate called. They couldn’t find her cat, I guess, but then they found her. It all worked out.”

Gen smiled and nodded, no questions. _Easy-peasy._

Therese had forgotten to ask Carol something important outside that she probably couldn’t ask so conveniently when Carol came back to the bar. So she texted her instead. 

_Can I spend the night at your place tonight?_

Almost instantly came Carol’s reply.

 _You never have to ask._

The hour and a half spent killing time until Carol figured she’d fulfilled her managerial duties was a pleasurable torture. With renewed excitement, renewed happiness, Therese found herself having fun for the first time that evening. Dannie noticed, and asked about it. Therese chalked it up to being a little drunk and brushed it off. And when Carol came and played darts with Dannie - winning fairly swiftly - Therese revelled in the thoughts of the two of them soon being able to spend time together. The two people she loved most. 

Dannie was annoyed, generally the one to beat in any bar-sport. “Why are you so good at darts?”

Carol shrugged, but Gen responded for her. “Her best friend Jessica has a dart board in her apartment.”

This time, Therese was annoyed. Annoyed that Gen knew that and she didn’t. Annoyed when Carol pointed at Gen as if to confirm her words as the answer to Dannie’s question. But her irritation quickly melted away thinking about just how much better she knew Carol than Gen did, than anybody else in this room did, probably.

Sharing a Lyft “back to Brooklyn” wasn’t noticeable when two other people were added to the mix. Both Crystal and Jack needed to go to Crown Heights, which was close enough to Carol’s house for them to all take the same car. When Crystal left first - not an accident on Carol’s part - Jack turned around from the front seat and asked, “and just where exactly did you two run off to earlier?”

Without letting her eyes leave Therese’s, Carol just said, “nowhere.” 

Jack made a gagging face and brought his gaze frontward again. 

The total comfort from being in Carol’s bed after just two nights in her own was unexpected for Therese. Obviously, it wasn’t really being in Carol’s bed, however luxurious it might’ve felt, but it was being with Carol. Therese laid almost flush on top of her, propped up only by her forearms that framed Carol’s hair, keeping her head from moving to either side, though Carol didn’t look like she planned to turn away regardless. Now they were missing clothes and sweaty and _too hot_ despite the outside temperature. Carol looked just as exposed as she had earlier - after telling Therese she loved her. Only this time, her nervousness seemed to be replaced by openness. Her eyes wide and willing. 

It had changed, at some point. The sex had become less frantic and rushed and more calm and attentive. There was still the quick and needy kind, but that rarely occurred at night.

That night a normally loud-by-anybody’s-standards Carol had been quiet and Therese spurred her on more, hushing her when she got the chance. And ten, fifteen, twenty minutes after, she stared down at Carol. There was nobody else in existence but them. 

Therese let her finger trace Carol’s cheekbone and nose - one that Carol said she used to be so self-conscious of - and then push a damp strand of hair off of her forehead. 

“I love you.”

Carol’s fingers curled and uncurled at Therese’s waist upon hearing the words. 

“I love you, too.”

“You look so tired.”

Carol sighed heavily. “I am.”

But Carol said she didn’t want to sleep, even though her slowly blinking eyelids begged to differ. She didn’t want this night to end. Therese had to remind her that there was tomorrow and the next day and every day after that, and only then would Carol agree to let herself fall asleep.

\-----

If Carol was going to be so on-board with Therese telling Dannie - adamant, almost - then Therese wasn’t going to wait. It had been too long already. The second she left Carol’s apartment when Carol was finishing getting ready to leave for work, she texted Dannie, inquiring as to his whereabouts, seeing what his plans for the day were. 

He was procrastinating on his own work, apparently, and had hit a block of sorts. He never worried too much about these types of things though. His paper, string, and twine sculptures had an odd - but earned - following on Etsy. The miniature ones, anyway. People bought them and found functionality for them by way of bud vases or mounted to the wall as mail holders. Though product design hadn’t been Dannie’s intention, he wasn’t one to bite the hand that fed him. So he shrugged it off and continued making more, saving his more daring work for leisure. 

When Therese told him she was headed into the city - first to take a chunk out of her gift card buying more paint, and after that, to her studio - Dannie was on board. Finally, he’d get to see what she’d been so secretly working on for months. Dannie said it: _months._ The time had gone by so quickly that Therese hardly realized that was how long it had been. She wasn’t sure whether to feel disheartened that her four unfinished paintings remained that way, unfinished, after months, or to cut herself some slack on such an ambitious project. It was four paintings (a fifth had been started in her head) and the kind that required precision and waiting to get just right. 

It took Leonardo at least four years to finish _Mona Lisa,_ after all. And after centuries, the main takeaway was for tourists to, “skip it,” should they find themselves at the Louvre. 

Then again, Hockney made _Portrait of an Artist_ in two weeks. A ten-by-seven foot painting that sold for the highest price ever was created in about fourteen days. Therese was fairly certain whoever had that piece hanging in their home never told their guests to “skip it, just walk on by” when they visited. 

That was neither here nor there, Therese decided. She was being too critical of herself. She didn’t have the means to immerse herself completely into her art and she couldn’t chastise herself for her pace. 

A most hungover Dannie was fondly recalling the events from the night before, eyes hidden under his dark lensed Warby Parker sunglasses that Therese had been confident he would lose within days of buying (that was two years ago), she felt oddly nervous. Not about how Dannie would react to her dating Carol, but how he’d react to her keeping it from him for so long. He’d understand, Therese knew, but still, a small part of her felt guilty. They told each other everything - especially about their relationships. Dannie knew _exactly_ how many times Ben had made her come in four months (zero) and Therese was well aware that Dannie had been dumped by his last girlfriend, Kimmy, because he wouldn’t let her peg him (Therese still found herself in random fits of laughter thinking about that at the most inopportune times, even nearly six months later). Dannie knew Therese had only told one person she’d ever dated that she loved them (her boyfriend in high school, and that was nowhere near the truth) and that it had taken Dannie two years before he had truly moved on from his college girlfriend Ashley. 

This - _Carol_ \- was more important than all of that, and Dannie needed to know. And he would hopefully realize that its importance was the same reason for him _not_ knowing for awhile.

“God, here we are. The moment of fucking truth. I mean, Jesus Therese, talk about a big reveal.” They were only halfway up the stairs to Therese’s studio. Dannie still didn’t know the half of it. 

“Okay, _so_ …” Two of Therese’s canvases were propped against a shadowy wall, one hung a few feet from the ground for the sake of space, and another laid face up on a long metal table. She switched on the lights to that corner of the room. “None of them are finished, but - ”

Dannie cut her off with a single clap and looked on, smiling. “I was _so_ hoping you were going to get back into figures and portraiture. God, your abstract is great don’t get me wrong, but you were always fantas - ” And then Dannie paused. His eyes narrowed as he kept looking. He tilted his head. 

Therese waited. Finally, Dannie looked at her, kindly, but confused. “Therese, are these…all of Carol?”

Nodding was all Therese could do at the moment. 

“Did you ask her to…model for you or something?” But when Dannie looked back at the paintings, his gaze landed on the one of Carol’s head on a pillow, hand in her face to block the sun from her barely awake eyes. It answered Dannie’s question for him; that was no pose. But Therese still answered. 

“Carol and I are dating. Like, we’re together.”

And Dannie’s reaction was better than Therese ever could’ve hoped for. But why had she even had doubts? He smiled, wide, looking impressed and proud. “No fucking way. What?”

Therese smiled too, laughed even. “Yeah.” She couldn’t believe it either, sometimes. 

“For how long? How did this happen? Long enough that you’re doing _this,_ obviously. Fuck you for not telling me, dude.” But he was still happy and interested and demanded to know everything. 

And she told him. About hanging out with Carol on her birthday when they’d just met, and then how it led to them talking all the time - mostly during work, but sometimes outside of it, when the excuse presented itself. She told him how Dannie had nearly _ruined_ everything with his misinformation about her and Gen, and that Carol had been upset that day. But she maybe also needed to thank Dannie, because that had turned into Carol asking her to dinner. 

“That was, like, almost three months ago Therese.” Dannie’s mouth was agape, it had been for a bit.

“I know, I know.”

She went on, about the Best First Date Ever and the week following, and Carol taking her to Abby’s wine dinner. Dannie wondered what Carol was like when they weren’t at work, who she was as a “real person.” 

“First of all - she’s a ‘real person’ at work too.” Therese pressed her lips together and glared a little, making a point, but then dropped it and continued. “Honestly? She’s incredible. She’s so smart and funny. She’s kind of shy, too. At work she’s, like, really confident and kind of imposing sometimes, but when we first started hanging out, I was shocked by how hesitant she was. Like she always was thinking about what she was going to say before saying it.”

Dannie was just grinning and nodding slowly, processing everything and silently lending his support. And then he was back to being Dannie, and blurted out, “so, she’s gotta be, like, super great in bed, right?” Because he _had_ to ask. 

First Therese scoffed, having to at least _pretend_ to be taken aback by the inquiry. She was about to decide to keep her lips sealed, but then remembered a comment Abby had made while very inebriated at her wine dinner, implying Carol had told her that one of the many benefits of Therese’s being twenty-five was that she was always “ready to go, anytime, all the time.” (Therese had responded by calling Carol a bitch, which made Abby howl with laughter - Therese was pretty sure it was the moment Abby decided she liked her). 

So she appeased Dannie, and gave into her own desire to speak so candidly with him. “Yeah, of course she is. She’s great…not in a bed, too. Have you _seen_ her?”

He said, “you’re so fucking lucky,” and when Therese agreed, he continued, “but she’s really lucky, too, Therese. You’re fucking awesome.” He didn’t back down when Therese rolled her eyes and looked away, instead grabbing her wrist to bring her attention to him. “I’m serious. You’re talented, interesting - you’re probably the best story-teller I know - and nice almost to a fault. Plus, even I can admit, you’re extremely hot. Like, it’s stupid. Carol should be worshipping the ground you walk on.”

It was amazing to admit, but, “I think she kind of does.”

For the next four hours, Dannie sat and watched as Therese worked, offering some much-welcome assistance at points. Even though he’d abandoned painting back at Cooper Union, he was truly gifted when it came to mixing colors. They worked together to come up with a blonde that didn’t look oversaturated.

“Is this Carol’s apartment?” In front of them was the painting of Carol leaning back over the arm of her sofa. Therese remembered the moment well. It was one of the first few times Therese had spent the night at Carol’s. Still so nervous to be there, swarmed with the incredulity of it all, she had returned from the bathroom to find Carol bending back to look at Therese, smiling happily at the sight of her. And Therese had been hit with a sudden blow of courage and continued toward Carol, and knelt to kiss her upside down lips. 

The memory was one of the greatest, and when she couldn’t get it out of her brain, Therese had to immortalize it on canvas. 

“It is. She has a really cute place. I’m sure you’ll be over sometime.”

Dannie had an idea of his own. “Should we get dinner at work tonight? Use our discount and go sit at the bar? Carol’s working…” He raised his eyebrows and Therese knew that he knew she couldn’t turn him down, now. 

Even though it was Wednesday, the restaurant was generally busy regardless, so they took their time walking over, not wanting to stumble upon an 8pm rush. Not that 8:30 would be worlds different, but the walk wasn’t bad. There wasn’t snow yet. On the way, Therese brought up something she wanted to put off a little longer, not trying to bombard Dannie with too much all at once, but her excitement got the best of her. 

“Can I ask your mom if I can bring Carol over for Christmas?”

To Therese’s shock, Dannie didn’t even pause to consider. “Definitely.” In fact, he looked pleased in a way that was a little unsettling. It was positive, no doubt, but Therese had to remind him, “okay…great. But Dannie, I’m serious. You can’t tell _anybody_ we work with. You cannot tell _Gen._ ”

His hands came up in defense. He knew. He was just excited about seeing Carol outside of work (“remember in _Mean Girls,_ about ‘seeing teachers outside of school?’”). And his mom had heard Carol-stories - she’d heard Harge-stories, and Gen-stories, and, most recently,  
bartender-Monica-stories - so putting a face to the name would be interesting for her. 

“You can text her now and ask. She’s going to say yes, though.”

This was true. Carrie McElroy would let Dannie and Therese bring a stranger weilding a gun that they’d just met on the bus into the house for dinner if they asked. She’d probably complain that it was rude if they _didn’t._ Therese ripped off the bandaid and messaged Carrie. She tried to keep it concise: she lied on Thanksgiving, she was actually dating someone, could she bring her to dinner on Christmas? 

As suspected, Carrie called right away. Therese couldn’t even utter a greeting, steamrolled by the force of a woman from New Jersey scorned. “Therese Belivet. How _dare_ you lie to me. I don’t have time for a conversation because Phil and I are at the neighbors having dinner - of course Dannie’s father is _nowhere to be found_ \- ” He was most definitely at work, Therese knew, but Carrie loved to get on his case whenever possible. “Anyway, if you don’t bring this girlfriend of yours to Christmas, you don’t need to bother coming yourself. Don’t even think about showing your gorgeous face. I won’t look at it. Understand?”

Carrie was loud enough for Dannie to hear, and he stifled laughter beside Therese as she squeaked out, “mhm.”

“Good. I love you. Tell Dannie to _call his mother._ I know you’re with him, but if I don't hear from him by tomorrow I calling the police to go and do a welfare check. You tell him that. Goodbye, sweetie.”

And that was all. Carrie left no room for discussion. “I know I say this all the time, but your mother…” Therese looked down at the homescreen of her phone and then back up to Dannie, “is _so_ Jersey. I can’t sometimes. She makes me feel like I was born on the other side of the world.”

Until she was eighteen, Therese had lived exclusively in New Jersey. Mostly in areas nearby Philadelphia (which is why she sometimes let a “wudder” slip, earning incessant teasing from Carol, who had the most polished cadence in the universe). New Jersey had never felt much like home, though. New York did a little more - a lot, more, really - but the high rent meant Therese wasn’t anchored to one place for too long, bouncing between boroughs and neighborhoods. She was an expert at picking up and moving after a lifetime of doing it.

They reached the doors of Ma Moitié and found Mary standing at the host stand. She was relieved to see them, and pretended to scold them for not being scheduled that evening. Mary was chatty, the combination of being newly twenty-one and a musical theatre student at NYU making her especially so, and she felt the need to unload on them before letting them pass and find spots at the bar.

“If neither of you are here on Wednesday then I’m just stuck with, like, Fred talking about his boring kids and Richard moping around because Crystal already left. Oh! And Gen - on a warpath because she got written up.”

Fishing for what would hopefully be a surprising but unlikely answer, Dannie asked. “Who wrote Gen up? And why?”

“Carol. _Duh._ ” Suspicions confirmed, and Mary continued, leaning closer and lowering her voice before telling them that Carol told Gen she needed to get new pens for work - the clicky kind, not capped - and Gen asked why, “but she didn’t just say ‘why,’ you know? She was like, _‘um, why?_ ’” 

Dannie and Therese nodded knowingly at Mary’s impression. It wasn’t what was said, but the way Gen said things. 

“Anyway, then Carol was like, ‘ _um,_ because it’s part of your uniform,’ and Gen was like, all huffy and mumbled, like, ‘that’s stupid,’ and then I guess she got written up. So, she’s pissed.” 

For a second, Dannie and Therese considered maybe turning around, and dashing out before getting wrapped up in whatever mess they didn’t have to be apart of on their days off, but Mary whined for them to stay, insisting everyone else was in a great mood. Particularly, Carol. “She even let me taste-test cocktails she was working on with the bartenders.”

In a show of personal strength, Dannie didn’t smile. He didn’t nudge Therese or look over at her or raise his eyebrows. He wasn’t grinning unnecessarily like Therese was. Instead he just asked about the cocktails while Therese fixed her face. After thanking Mary for the latest and greatest, they made their way to the bar. It took willpower to not obsessively scan the room for Carol, and Therese focused her attention on Monica standing on the other side of the bar in front of them. Dannie certainly didn’t have trouble keeping his interest on her. But Therese was keenly aware of when Carol entered her line of vision and she let herself watch as Carol went up to a table, talked for a moment, left to pull Richard aside, and then finally noticed Therese, moth to a flame. 

And Carol didn’t just walk through a room, she glided. Even if she wasn’t comfortable in her surroundings, she pretended to be. Therese had been witness to it a number of times. She practically strutted her way behind the bar to stand to face Therese and Dannie.

But she kept her voice casual. “Hey, what are you two doing here? Here to eat or just drink?”

It was the kind of question she’d ask any other employee when they came to sit at the bar on their day off. With Monica and anyone else far out of ear-shot, Therese clued Carol in. “Hi. So, Dannie _knows._ ”

Carol’s chest lifted with a sharp breath in and then she exhaled through her mouth. “Ah. Got it. Well...” She looked to either side, not to insure secrecy but seemingly to buy herself time. 

Therese smiled as she watched Carol fidget knowing she was being looked at with a new type of attention, though Dannie remained stoic. Giving Carol an easy-out, Therese said, “we _are_ here to eat though, so…”

And Carol snapped out it, because, right, of course, and she didn’t let them order drinks and poured them wine instead. Carol left, given she still had work to do, and - after briefly acknowledging Carol’s uncommon awkwardness - Therese and Dannie found themselves talking about a myriad of other things: weird but well-meaning Ruby pushing Therese about grad school and residencies, Dannie’s hunt for a new roommate, and if Monica was flirting with Dannie more than she did with their other male coworkers, or just an average amount. Gen stopped by several times, first to give them her side of the write-up story - one much more flattering to herself - and a handful of times after that, just to drop-in on their conversations. After two hours and a bottle and a half of wine, they tried to get the check, but Monica told them not to worry about it. “Carol just told me to comp everything, so you’re all set.” 

They left cash on the bar for the tip, and Therese told Dannie to leave without her. She was going to go find Carol, probably in her office. If anyone asked, she’d say she had a question about her paycheck. 

When Therese opened the door into Carol’s office, just as she thought, Carol was working at her laptop. Carol didn’t have time to muster up a greeting before Therese shut the door behind herself, locked it, and kissed Carol with one hand on her cheek and the other on her neck. It was the kind of kiss that made them both inhale loudly through their noses to catch their breath, not wanting to have to break apart to do so, and when they eventually did break apart, Therese realized her right knee and shin were resting at Carol’s side on her chair, her other leg anchored on the opposite side, nearly straddling her. 

Carol noticed too. “Are you trying to get me to fuck you in my office or what?”

That hadn’t been Therese’s intention, but now that Carol mentioned it… “And what would you say if I said ‘yes?’”

First Carol laughed and then she hummed when Therese kissed at her neck. “I can’t say I haven’t thought about that _so many times_. Though right now, as all of your coworkers are about to parade one-by-one into my office so I can let them leave, may not be the best of times.”

Before Therese could be disappointed, she remembered that it hadn’t been the initial reason for her visit. She’s come to thank her for the free dinner and drinks. And also to ask her about Christmas. Because she’d found herself required to bring Carol along to Dannie’s, as stated by Carrie. 

She kept the question simple and undaunting. “Will you come to Christmas at Dannie’s parents’ house with me?”

When Carol looked skeptical, like she was about to reject the invitation without the slightest consideration, Therese went to elaborate on the offer, but only came up with, “please?”

Carol winced like she was physically in pain. Her expression didn’t change even when Therese told her Dannie was more than fine with it, looking forward to it, even. And then, just when Therese was gearing up her forces, with closed eyes Carol said, “yes. I’ll go.”

Therese knew not to show just how elated she felt, not to scare Carol into thinking this was too big a deal, so instead she just smiled, and whispered, “thank you,” and she told Carol to text her later and left to head home. Christmas was only two weeks away, and if Hockney could paint one _Portrait of an Artist_ in that time, Therese wondered if she could complete just one portrait of Carol by then, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple notes: my knowledge of art, how it’s created and the art-world itself, doesn't extend much beyond the art club I joined in high school only because the club frequently went on field trips. Most of the meetings were about planning said field trips, so please make me aware of any glaring oddities or discrepancies. 
> 
> Second note: I liked this chapter. That's all!


	20. Chapter 20

When Carol was anxious, Therese could feel it radiating off of her. Other people probably could too, she wasn’t good at hiding it. It was in her mannerisms. She did the leg-shaking thing, she ran her fingers through her hair, she got quiet.

Anytime that Therese brought up going to Dannie’s parents house, Carol would go silent, providing answers with just nods and shakes of her head. Therese didn’t want to tell Carol how to feel, but her anxiety was preventing Therese from looking forward to the holiday. After getting out of work the Thursday before Christmas, Therese went to her studio to work a bit while waiting for Carol to leave work. It had become something of a routine on days that Carol thought she’d be able to head out at a decent time. Therese would go to her studio, Carol would text her usually within an hour, they’d meet somewhere, and go back to Carol’s apartment. To make things easy, Therese kept a bag of makeup and some clothing with her most days. 

Thursday night was more of the same, but when Therese brought up the plan for the coming Tuesday, she felt a tinge of irritation as Carol began to shut down. Knowing better than to broach the subject on public transit, she hastily changed topics for the remainder of the commute. 

It must’ve gotten into Carol’s head, though, because even when they settled into her apartment, Carol seemed miles away. Therese felt at a loss and just watched Carol flop onto her back on her bed, struggling to use the toes of each foot to push at the heels of her boots, trying to remove them without sitting up. This at least gave Therese a task and she lifted Carol’s right foot and held her ankle while pulling off the shoe, then did the same to the left. 

The bed was still unmade from the morning, and Therese crawled up from the bottom to slide next to Carol, leaving enough room between them. 

“Why is going to Christmas at Dannie’s making you so stressed out?”

Therese just put it bluntly. Carol had to have seen the question coming, so there was no sense in treating it with delicacy. 

The ceiling seemed to provide an interesting distraction for Carol, and she stared up, not allowing her gaze to falter toward Therese. She had a corner of her top sheet between two fingers and was twisting it around until Therese moved closer and bumped her, after that Carol flinched and took an almost imperceptible scoot away from her. 

Therese reached out but didn’t touch Carol. “Hey…”

Still without turning toward Therese, Carol sighed and began. “I’m just not good with parents.”

She didn’t mean to, but Therese laughed. She stifled it quickly. That couldn’t possibly be true. Carol was good with people, with everyone, and she seemed like the type of person that girlfriends’ parents doted on.

“I’m serious, Therese. I used to be. Brittany’s parents _loved_ me - ”

It probably wasn’t the time, but Therese couldn’t help herself and asked, in her bitchiest tone, “who’s _Brittany?”_

At least it made Carol laugh a little, as much as she seemed to be able at the moment. “My first girlfriend ever. I think I had just turned twenty-one when we started dating.” Then she was back to being serious. “Anyway, Brittany’s parents, Nina’s parents - they liked me. Cassie wasn’t that close to hers but her mom was always nice. Then something changed and I just don’t know what happened.”

Trying her luck, Therese grazed her fingers up and down on Carol’s upper arm, attempting to coax more from her. “What do you mean, baby?”

Carol’s breathing was getting heavier, like she might cry and didn’t want to. “Cynthia’s parents just didn’t like me, I could tell. I didn’t have to see them often though, because they live in Laguna Beach. But Taylor’s parents _hated_ me. From the first time I met them it was just so obvious they thought I wasn’t good enough or something.”

Therese put her hand around Carol’s arm and squeezed lightly, resting her head next to hers on the pillow in the process. She wasn’t going to try to get Carol to look at her anymore. If this was what would get Carol to talk, then so be it. “Why do you think they thought that?”

“Because after I met them Taylor wouldn’t invite me to any family things of theirs. She’d go and visit them at least every other week - they lived in fucking Greenwich, Connecticut for Christ’s sake, less than an hour away - and she would never let me come. When I did see them every now and then, I was just obviously trying _so hard_ and Taylor wouldn’t really help much. She would tell me that I couldn’t come home with her around holidays because her grandparents were uncomfortable with her being gay. But I knew that wasn’t true because there were old pictures on Instagram and Facebook of her ex with her family. I never told her that I knew that, though.” Carol’s voice got quieter, Therese still didn’t say anything. “I never told anyone, actually. Not even my therapist. The whole thing just made me feel ashamed and alone.”

There was nothing worse than feeling alone - Therese knew it all too well. Hearing Carol hurt made Therese hurt in tandem. Therese pushed on Carol’s jaw to make Carol face her. “I’m not going to let anything remotely similar happen. I’d never put you in a situation like that, Carol.” 

It was hard to call what Carol was doing crying, because when Carol cried, she _cried_. These were just tears that overflowed, just silently, sort of in a tired way as she stared back at Therese. “I know you wouldn’t. I’m still scared, though. I really want for this to go well.”

Therese did her best to convince Carol that it _would_ go well, there was no doubt in her mind. Dannie’s mom was easy - she tried hard to make everybody feel comfortable. Plus, Dannie’s mom wasn’t Therese’s mom. She was a killer stand-in, for sure, but they had no ties that kept Therese feeling a sense of obligatory loyalty. Therese had essentially become the daughter Carrie never had, and Carrie wouldn’t want to do something to lose that, so she’d work just as hard to put Carol at ease.

“Dannie’s family will love you because I love you.” Therese said it because it was the truth, plain and simple. 

A few seconds of silence passed and then Carol reached out for Therese’s waist to pull her closer. “You always know how to make me feel better. About anything. All the time.”

But that sentiment - it went both ways. Therese knew it, but had trouble verbalizing it, not often having specific moments to be able to point out to Carol. Though that changed the next day.

When Therese woke up on Friday, it was later than she’d planned - there was painting to get done at the studio. Carol was, peculiarly, still asleep. Soundly and beautifully. Therese brushed her teeth and while doing so walked through Carol’s apartment, into the living room where she’d left her bag. She needed her shampoo and conditioner. Though of course, on a day where she already felt behind, she found too that she’d left shampoo at her own apartment. It wouldn’t have been an issue had Carol not used products _specifically_ for her blonde hair, and Therese _specifically_ for her brown hair that she routinely dyed several shades darker. 

Therese didn’t want to wake Carol, but she would feel bad leaving without notice, so when she put her toothbrush back, she went to Carol’s bed and leaned over her, stroking her forehead and whispering her name. 

“Carol. Hey…” 

Seeing Carol turn to try and hide her eyes from the light, nestling into the blankets and turn on her pillow almost made Therese decide to not get her up. Almost. 

Therese pet her hair and rested her head beside hers as she knelt. “Carol. I have to leave. I left some stuff at home…”

One eye opened and Carol pouted her lip. “What did you leave at home?”

“My shampoo.” It was annoying for sure, but at least Therese didn’t live far. That’s what she told herself.

Both eyes opened and Carol sat up, grabbing Therese’s wrist. “No. You don’t need to go home.”

Before Therese could protest, Carol held up her index finger in a request for Therese to wait. “I’m going to give you your Christmas present now.”

They’d told one another they wouldn’t be getting the other presents, the hassle and the triviality didn’t seem worth it. If Carol knew Therese wanted something, she bought it, and vice versa. Therese had something for Carol that wasn’t really a gift, anyway. But now Carol was changing things, and _that_ was frustrating. 

“It’s not really a gift-gift, don’t get all pissy.” Carol pinched at Therese’s waist when Therese shifted her jaw. “Come here.”

Therese was being dragged into the living room, in front of a coat closet by the front door that Carol used mostly for linens. Carol let go of her hand and crouched down onto the floor, pulling out a canvas grocery bag. Without looking up at Therese, she started handing her things: Therese’s shampoo, her conditioner, her face cream, a makeup bag containing the exact same products Therese used. There was more - another laptop charger, a new phone charger, the deodorant Therese usually wore, brown hair ties... 

Unsure of what was happening, Therese just squinted. Carol answered without meeting her gaze. 

“I don’t want you to have to carry all of your belongings with you anymore. I just want you to have everything you need here. I’m not telling you to move in, I’m not a crazy person - ” Carol clarified, and Therese could see her forcing a self-deprecating smile. “But I do want you to feel at home here. Therese, I want you around as much as you feel like being around. And I never want you to think you need to ask to stay.”

Therese was overwhelmed and standing above Carol holding shampoo in her right hand and conditioner in her left. Her hands squeezed the bottles and she didn’t know why she did it until she felt tension behind her eyes - the kind that made her nose hurt because it wanted to hold the rest of her face steady. She was about to cry. 

Because schlepping her shit from one place to another was just what she had always done. Her entire life. She didn’t have memories of anywhere stable that felt like home - a nomadic existence, never even attempting to settle somewhere knowing her surroundings weren’t permanent. It was awful, but eventually Therese had become used to the awfulness and it became a normal, baseline feeling. That was why when she was in college, moving every year from apartment to apartment, roommates to roommates, Therese didn’t have any problems adjusting. She just _did it_ while her friends bitched and moaned. 

But even now, in her own apartment, it was still Lauren and Jasmine’s home, and Therese was simply paying to live in a room. She knew they didn’t want for Therese to see it as such, but the idea of not getting too comfortable wasn’t easily shaken.

Until Carol. Carol wanted her around - Therese knew this before Carol had said it so explicitly just seconds ago. Therese had a toothbrush at Carol’s, she knew where everything was kept in the kitchen better than she did in her own apartment, she did laundry there and checked Carol’s mail, Therese had _her_ side of the bed - equipped with the pillows she liked best and an empty side table primed for her to fill. It had been apparent from the time Carol had first stopped Therese from leaving, saying, “no, stay.” Therese felt at home with Carol.

And like any completely sane person reacts when receiving a bag full of toiletries, Therese wrapped one arm around her own waist and covered her face with her other hand, bottle of shampoo and all, letting out a sob that sounded like a stifled sneeze. Even with Carol on the floor and Therese towering above her, she still felt small when she cried. When Carol cried it gave Therese purpose, but now Therese was crying and she felt herself losing ground. 

“Therese, are you okay?” Carol had stood up, and stood next to Therese looking worried, the canvas bag abandoned at their feet.

In her best effort to pull herself together, Therese laughed but was still crying. “Of course I’m okay. This is just so - ” she meant to say nice or wonderful or perfect but it got caught in her throat, so she wrapped her arms around Carol’s neck instead.

“God I really hope these aren’t bad tears.” Carol spoke into Therese’s hair and pulled her as close as possible.

Therese just shook her head where it rested on Carol’s shoulder. 

Once she pulled herself together a bit, Therese sat down to look through the bag, touching the contents like diamonds. When Carol joined her on the floor, Therese did her best to explain why a bundle of household necessities brought her to tears. Of course Carol understood, and had suspected. And having sex on the hardwood was far from comfortable, but it was necessary, because Carol said if she hadn’t made Therese entirely aware of wanting her around constantly, then she would make up for it in spades. 

Suddenly Therese didn’t care about running late anymore.

——

Gen found Therese talking to Dannie during work on Monday. The night was almost over and he was complaining about a table when she came over and said, “hey, I’m leaving. Carol wants to see both of you in her office. See you tomorrow.” She threw a wink their way and added something about them finally not being teacher’s pets anymore. 

Therese shrugged and led the way down to the basement. The door to Carol’s office was closed but she didn’t even think about knocking. Inside Carol and Jack were opening boxes and restocking bottles and Therese had to turn down the music on Carol’s laptop to properly get her attention. 

When Carol looked over and saw Therese and Dannie standing there, she smiled. “Hey! Are you two almost done up there?”

They were. Almost. Therese still had one table and they both had a bit of side work, but nothing that couldn’t be accomplished in an hour or so. But that wasn’t the reason their presence had been requested. 

Carol rolled a cork from a wine bottle between her index finger and thumb, stalling, until Jack tossed another cork at her head and reminded her that all four of them had work to get back to. 

“Right. Dannie, what do your parents drink?”

Dannie’s face lit up. “What do my parents drink?”

The flush that swept across Carol’s face made her snippy, “yes, _your_ parents,” much less menacing.

They all waited while Dannie tried to come up with an answer. Therese felt like intervening, raising her hand and waiting to be called on. Eventually Dannie asked if it had to be wine, and Carol told him, “of course not.” 

Gin, for one, and they usually drank Hendricks. Carol looked at Jack and they rattled off brands of gin, decided on The Botanist and a Japanese gin. 

“They drink a lot of wine too. My dad mostly drinks red and my mom just likes anything she can drink cold. She even drinks red cold. Don’t judge her.”

Carol just nodded. “Chillable red. I can manage that. Okay you two,” she made a shooing motion with her hands, “scatter.”

When Therese came back downstairs later, ready to leave, Carol still showed no signs of nearing a stopping point. The next night - Christmas Eve - was going to be super busy and very short-staffed, and she preferred to have as few people yelling at her about “ruining their holiday” as possible, which went a lot of work to needed to get done beforehand. Therese almost pouted, but Carol asked her if she was planning on going to her place tonight - because Therese was still welcome to, Carol would just be a few hours behind.

Therese had been in Carol’s apartment alone in the morning, but never at night. “Are you sure?”

Without answering, Carol searched the drawers of her desk for something. Soon after, a spare key was dangled in front of Therese. “Just don’t let me forget to put it back. I’ll see you in a few hours then?”

Kissing Carol seemed like the appropriate response. 

There were clean dishes in the dishwasher, so Therese unloaded them and put a few dirty ones that had been waiting in the sink into it. She refilled the water jug in Carol’s refrigerator and the ice cube trays in her freezer. Carol’s glasses had been left out on her coffee table, and Therese knew there was a case around there somewhere, she just wasn’t sure where. It wasn’t on the small table by the front door, on her dresser, or her nightstand, it was _inside_ the nightstand though, in a drawer with far better findings. 

A box of - to anyone else - useless knick-knacks, but to Therese, more diamonds. The twist-tie ring, wine labels and corks that Carol could probably place, fortunes from their Thanksgiving Chinese take-out, a whole bunch of other stuff. A lot of it Carol had to have saved from very early on - when they first started dating, or maybe even before. Therese wondered how long Carol had wanted her, if she maybe thought about Therese from the moment they met like Therese had with her. 

The glasses went back out to the coffee table. Therese didn’t want Carol to know she’d been in that drawer, content with waiting for Carol to show her herself. She did add a small token of her own, though, one that Carol probably wouldn’t notice unless she really looked. 

She considered staying up and waiting for Carol, but it was getting late and Therese wanted to go to the studio before work tomorrow, so she got ready for bed - easier now that she had her things stored in Carol’s bathroom cabinet and bedroom closet and not just stuffed away in a bag. 

She fell asleep fast and with the light on and when she woke up, Carol was sitting on the bed next to her, just looking. She smiled when Therese opened her eyes. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Therese hooked an arm around Carol’s torso and tugged her down. There was only a sliver of space on her side of the bed, so she held Carol tight to keep her from falling off. “I’m glad you did. I wanted to know you got home okay.”

It was harder to close her eyes the second time with Carol right there for her to look at, but she fell asleep again with Carol telling her (or herself) she was just going to lay down for five minutes - then she’d get up and wash her face. Therese tightened her hold hoping Carol would get too tired to get up again. 

——

There were clothes strewn about Carol’s bedroom - mostly discards - as she pulled out nearly every top and bottom and dress she owned to try it out, decide it was horrible, and leave it crumpled into a pile on the floor or bed. Therese had stressed for her to just wear “whatever,” she wanted Carol to have one less thing to worry over, but clearly her lack of direction hadn’t been helpful. Intervention was the only route left, Therese decided, when she heard Carol growl and throw and striped long-sleeved shirt across the room.

“Okay, can I make a suggestion?” It would probably be less of a suggestion and more dictation.

“What?” Carol spat her words, and Therese knew they weren’t meant to be mean - she was just frustrated and nervous.

Somewhere on the floor were the pants Therese was looking for - and when she spotted them underneath a pair of inside-out skinny jeans, she shook them out and offered them to Carol. “Wear these,” they were a tight-fitting gingham print, “because they make your ass look fantastic.”

Carol rolled her eyes, but she was finally smiling a little. 

“I don’t know what to wear with them…”

As if Therese didn’t have that worked out too. “This grey sweater - because you love it and it’s soft and just fitted enough to make your boobs like great.”

“So now I’m trying to win over Dannie’s mother with my tits and ass?”

Despite enjoying the sight of an uncharacteristically petulant Carol standing in only underwear and a bra, time was of the essence, and Therese draped the sweater over one of her shoulders, moving on to find shoes. 

“No, that part is for my enjoyment. You could show up in a burlap sack and Carrie would think you were the most elegant person to set foot inside her home.” And there was probably truth to that - not that Carrie’s friends and family were a gaggle of rubes (they were decently well-off) - but Carol was Carol, and always put together, even now, frazzled and skulking. Therese found Carol’s black loafers that had a thin gold bar across the tongue. “Here. Now get ready.”

Even with Carol having been the one to shower first, Therese was still done before her. It wasn’t as if Therese’s own hair and makeup took considerably less time, she just wasn’t overthinking every little detail. Admittedly, she was nervous too. Not for Carol, but for the other side of the coin; she wanted Carol to like Dannie’s family. She was the one dragging her there, after all. But not wanting to cause further tension, she kept that to herself. 

Watching Carol get ready was always relaxing. Mesmerizing, even. She loved lying on Carol’s bed, head propped up on one hand, looking on while Carol put on foundation, highlighter, and filled in her eyebrows. She could watch as Carol vacillated between eyeshadow palettes - and then further, specific colors - for hours. She wondered if Carol realized that she chewed the inside of her bottom lip while sifting through her brushes to find the right one. 

In her painting of Carol standing wet-haired and fresh-faced at her dresser that doubled as a vanity, eyeing Therese through the mirror, she made it a point not to include Carol biting her lip, for fear she’d become self-conscious and make a point to stop. In that moment, a wave of terror washed over Therese, because what if Carol hated Therese painting her? Without her knowledge, her permission. Not one to like even having her photo taken, why had Therese thought Carol would appreciate giant oil portraits of herself? Therese hadn’t thought. She had just painted and painted without thinking. 

“Therese? What’s wrong?” Carol was now in front of her, putting on earrings. 

Therese had completely zoned out. “What?” 

“I said I’m ready. Let’s get going.”

Swallowing her nerves about taking Carol to her studio once they were done at Dannie’s, Therese grabbed her jacket and Carol’s hand as they walked out the door and down the stairs. 

In the Lyft, Carol’s stare didn’t leave the window and she shook her leg, unable to stop for more than a few seconds when Therese would reach over and put her hand on her knee, forcing it down. So Therese put the bag that sat on the middle seat onto the floor and took off her seatbelt, scooting over to the middle and putting on that seat belt instead. Carol only noticed when she heard the “click,” and asked what she was doing. Therese just wove her fingers into Carol’s and rested her head on her shoulder while she twirled the Carol’s rings around to distract her, even if it was just a little.


	21. Chapter 21

There was a red doorbell, clean - new in appearance, even - that had never worked as long as Therese had been frequenting the McElroy’s house. When Carol reached for it, Therese slapped her hand away and gave her a look of pseudo-disgust. 

“We don’t knock or ring. We just walk in.”

Carol’s eyes rolled up and back as Therese opened the door for her, waving her inside. 

Even if Carol wasn’t “good with parents” like she claimed (though Therese still didn’t believe it), Carrie was good with anyone. They skipped the greetings when Carrie shouted, “I’m still mad at you,” to Therese immediately upon their entrance. She didn’t need to shout, she was standing right there, ready to take their coats. 

Therese pointed to herself while she unwrapped the scarf from her neck. “ _Me?_ Why _me?_ ”

“Because,” Carrie took Therese’s scarf and continued, “you lied to me at Thanksgiving, Miss there’s-nobody-in-my-life. Unforgivable.”

“I’m afraid that’s my fault.” Carol chimed in, willing to make her presence more known. “I sort of maybe made her keep things quiet, given the circumstances.”

On the ride over, Carol had worried herself once again and frantically asked Therese if Carrie knew she was her manager. In her best soothing voice, Therese patted Carol’s hand and told her that _of course_ Carrie knew. Then she quickly texted Dannie telling him to fill Carrie in _now_ to avoid any potentially awkward questions.

Pursing her lips - not at Carol, just to Therese - Carrie squinted her eyes and relented. “Fine.”

Carol smiled, and Therese imagined Carrie’s boisterousness was putting her at ease - a quality she was familiar with. “If you want to be mad at anybody, I’m your girl.”

But how could Carrie possibly be mad at such a beautiful face? It was what she asked before jolting Carol into a hug. A second one came after Therese handed Carrie the bag containing the two bottles of gin and four bottles of wine. Therese was all but left for dead in the foyer after Carrie led Carol through the living room and down the hall, past the family room, and into the kitchen with one arm over her shoulders and the other holding the bag they’d brought. 

Before Therese could follow them, Dannie appeared, clamoring down the stairs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I meant to intercept. I was up there for two minutes...” He surveyed the empty-save-for-Therese foyer and asked, “my mom took Carol didn’t she?”

 _Mhm._ Therese nodded. “Everyone is in there, aren’t they?”

“I’d guess as much.” They hurried to the kitchen, confident they’d find Carol encircled by Phil, Dannie’s cousins, aunt and uncle, maybe his dad. But they were pleasantly surprised. It was just Carrie, Carol, and Phil. Carrie was asking Carol about the wines she’d brought them, studying the labels with enthusiasm, while Phil sat at the small kitchen table, eating cheese and staring at Carol with an odd diligence. 

It was quiet, maybe too quiet, and Dannie must’ve thought so as well. “Mom, where is everybody?”

Both Carol and Carrie looked over, and Carrie looked annoyed by the interruption. “Your dad is in the dining room with Rick setting the table, your cousins are in the basement - signing cards, I think,” Carrie waived her hand, a sign of exasperation, earning laugh from Carol. “Grandma is outside smoking. The rest, I don’t know.”

Still chewing, Phil added, “I’m here!”

“That’s right, and here’s your brother. Never one to be left out. Why? Did you think I’d let everyone gather in the kitchen so I could parade Carol around like a show dog?”

It was unclear whether the question was rhetorical or not. Dannie and Therese looked at each other and then back to Carrie and Carol. Dannie dipped his toe in. “Honestly? I mean…”

Carrie loved an opportunity to act offended. “Oh my god! I can’t believe you two think so lowly of me!”

“Yeah, you guys are mean.” Carol smirked and then winked at Therese before turning back to Carrie, resuming their conversation. 

After getting a brief and then simplified explanation of the wines (eventually Carol boiled them down to “it’s red wine,” and “it’s white wine”), Carrie chose a bottle for Carol to open and pour and Dannie and Therese sat with Phil and ate cheese, listening to Carrie and Carol - apparently newfound best friends. Carrie got the basics from Carol: Seattle, one sister - older, niece and nephew, moved to New York for college, dropped out. But Therese listened more closely when she began hearing things that she didn’t know. Aware of a new restaurant opening from by their owner and chef, Carrie had asked Carol whether she wanted Harge’s job, “that’s the GM, right?”

Carol laughed hard and shook her head. “God, no. I don’t even want my own job. I just got stuck with it. When Ma Moitié opened, there wasn’t anyone suitable to be the assistant general manager, so I was just put in the position ‘temporarily.’ Now, here I am, three years later.” Carol sipped her wine and everyone stared, waiting. “I was just supposed to be the beverage director. I only get paid for one job, anyway. But, whatever. I should’ve seen it coming.”

It wasn’t the time nor the place, but Therese wanted to leap up and shake Carol and tell her to _fucking quit_ \- she’d work one hundred hours a week and pay Carol’s rent if she needed money. Obviously, Therese did not do that, and Carrie broke the silence instead. 

“Can I ask a rude question and you do not have to answer - ”

Seeing where that was going, Dannie interrupted quickly, “mom, do _not._ I know what you’re going to ask and don’t. Not with me and Therese here.”

Another “and me,” came from Phil, but Carrie ignored him and persisted. “How do you know what I’m going to ask?”

“I just do, we all do.”

“You don’t! I’m just going gently inquire as to how much - ”

“Ninety-five.” Carol shut down the argument with her answer. “I make ninety-five thousand a year.”

And there was another moment of silence as everyone tried to figure out if that was good or bad, to be impressed or outraged. It sounded like a lot, but at the same time, not enough. Carol answered the silence. “It would be fine if I didn’t work so much. Hour-per-hour, when you really break it down, I make less than you two.” She wagged her finger between Therese and Dannie and then shrugged, decidedly unfazed. She’d accepted the injustice, at this point. 

When Carrie steered the conversation into calmer waters, Dannie mouthed, “ _that’s crazy_ ” to Therese, who silently concurred. They resumed their activity of blatantly eavesdropping on Carrie and Carol. The series of personal questions were paused when Carrie found out Carol liked cooking and told her about everything she was making for dinner, which somehow lead back to work and back to Carol - and what she’d rather be doing instead. 

“Well, for one, not working anywhere with a Michelin Star. That’s for sure.” Reason being, Carol explained, was the constant pressure to maintain it. If, god forbid, they were to lose the distinction one year, it would be Carol, Harge, and chef Michael standing in a circle with guns pointed at each other, ready to pounce once figuring out who was to blame. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for what it’s done for my career. I guess. But truthfully I’d rather work somewhere that I could focus on the wine and cocktails more independently from food.”

Suddenly, Phil excused himself and left the kitchen, promising to return. The idea of Carol wishing to focus on her personal interests more at work reminded Carrie of both Therese and Dannie, their own jobs functioning as a means to an end in an effort to be able to pursue their own respective careers. Then Carrie brought up Ruby, asking Therese if she’d talked to her more about applying for those residencies they’d discussed. Not noticing the daggers Therese was shooting from her eyes, begging Carrie to _zip it,_ she added, “you know, the ones out west and upstate?”

While yes, Therese had further conversed with Ruby regarding residency opportunities, she hadn’t done so with Carol. Ever. And Carol, likely realizing the situation unfolding - and unlike Carrie reading the plea in Therese’s eyes - gave no indication to not having been privy, securing room for Carrie to continue pressing Therese for answers. When Therese locked eyes with Carol, Carol smirked and raised her eyebrows, tipping back the rest of her wine. 

“We talked a little more about them, yeah.” They’d talked a lot more, actually. Therese stayed with the surface information though, sharing that Ruby told her she had two separate friends who worked at programs in New Mexico and Northern California, respectively. She herself had done residencies in Oregon and in upstate New York, even adding that she could help Therese with getting selected for a competitive MFA in Michigan, should she ever be interested. “But as if I’m going to move to Michigan. Or anywhere, for that matter.”

She didn’t say why not and she wondered if anyone in the room knew why not, and she didn’t look around to find out. Especially not at Carol. Ever oblivious, or more likely just a little drunk, Carrie accused Therese and Dannie of not being adventurous enough. They’d both stayed in the metropolitan New York area their entire lives. It was about time they expanded their reach a bit. She cited Carol as an example of this, given that she’d left Seattle after high school and moved across the country. 

But Therese knew that as much as it had worked out for Carol, it had pained her to be away from her family, just like it would pain Therese to be apart from Carol, even if just for a year.

The discussion was cut short when Phil came back, his cousins Matthew and Tim in tow, carrying what looked like a rolled up magazine. He pointed at Carol, smiling. “Now I know where I’ve seen you recently! When you said that thing about the pressure from having a Michelin Star I remembered…”

The magazine was placed on the table, revealed to be _Food & Wine, _and Phil flipped vigorously. Carol muttered, “oh god,” when Phil started reading aloud. “‘Twenty most exciting women in food and beverage: who to watch in 2019.’ And look here, ‘number three, _Carol Aird_.’ Should I read the accompanying article?”

“No,” Carol said, eyes fixed to the ceiling.

“I’m gonna read the article. ‘Though known mostly as the innovative and somewhat obsessive beverage director of New York City’s renowned Ma Moitié, Carol Aird has left her mark at restaurants across the country. At only 34-years-old - ’”

Phil stopped abruptly when Carrie snatched the magazine from him and whacked him over the head. “What is wrong with you? She’s uncomfortable, quit it.”

Even though it clearly wasn’t, Carol said, “it’s fine.”

It was, for the most part, an honest mistake on Phil’s part. He thought it was cool Carol had just been in the magazine he happened to pick up and browse through at his parents’ house, and he hadn’t considered Carol’s reluctancy was due to embarrassment, thinking instead it was feigned modesty. In an effort to “make things even,” Phil brought out pictures of himself and Dannie from high school. Therese had seen (and laughed at) them hundreds of times. 

While Carol read excerpts from Phil and Dannie’s yearbook, Therese quietly took the abandoned magazine from the kitchen countertop and went back to the part about Carol. The picture was beautiful - Carol looking over from the wine shelves in her office, a little annoyed and a little amused, like she was about to say something snarky to whoever had the good fortune of taking her photo. 

She was only on the third paragraph when Carol approached stealthily from behind. “I hate that picture.”

Nothing new there. “You hate all pictures of yourself.”

“That’s...true.” 

It made Therese worried about taking Carol to her studio again. But she shook it off, and scooted over slightly in her seat to allow Carol a small sliver of space to sit down. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? It’s pretty great.”

Therese knew what she walked into but couldn’t back up, because Carol seized on it quickly.

“Oh, we’re going to play the ‘why didn’t you tell me about that’ game? Really want to go down that road?” 

But then Carrie needed help and wanted _Carol’s_. Therese gaped, her position of Carrie’s sous chef clearly very replaceable, but smiled when Carol pulled at a chunk of her hair when she stood up and said, “love you,” when Therese was granted the menial task of, “rounding everybody up so they could eat at some point in the near future.”

Having Dannie introduce Carol to his aunt and uncle as his friend and Therese’s girlfriend - not his coworker or manager or _their_ manager - was a relief. And a dream, because there existed a place where Therese didn’t have to have her relationship come with an asterisk. Even if that place was with Dannie’s great-great aunt Dorothy who told Carol that her best friend’s granddaughter was also a lesbian and maybe they knew each other.

Ignoring Carrie’s offense on her behalf, Carol just asked, “does she live in the city?”

Dorothy said, “yes,” and Carol told her that there was a good chance she did know her. 

Dinner flew by, and Therese was just happy that the influx of people meant Carol didn’t have to feel on-the-spot any longer. She, Carol, Dannie, and Phil positioned themselves at one end of the table, near enough for Carrie to cut into their conversations from time to time. 

There was dessert, and the potential for more drinks, but Therese was getting impatient. She loved being at the McElroy’s with Carol, but she wanted to bring her to the studio while she still had the crumbs of courage left inside. Finding a window of time where things were winding down, after helping with dishes but before Dannie’s really young cousins started opening presents, Therese made a round of brief goodbyes and pulled Carol out the front door. 

She arranged for the Lyft. Carol would figure out where they were going soon, but Therese didn’t want to spoil things, or get too many nosy questions from Carol - someone allergic to surprises. 

“Why are we at your studio?”

It was impressive that Carol had managed to keep from asking until they were out of the car and Therese was unlocking to front door. 

Up the steps, she explained, “I have something for you. It isn’t _for_ you, but, it’s…you’ll see.”

It wasn’t completely dark - it never was in Manhattan - the street lights and building lights and headlights streamed through the window, illuminating their surroundings like moonlight. But Therese still flipped on some lights and led Carol to the corner where she’d kept everything. Once they were there, she didn’t really need to _show_ her, because it was all right there in front of her.

Time stood still while Therese watched Carol, standing several feet behind her as if the space would help for something. Something needed to be said - preferably by Carol - soon, or else Therese thought she just might die of anticipation. She saw one of Carol’s crossed arms raise to let her hand play with the collar of her jacket, one of those nervous fidgets. 

After an eternity, Carol turned slowly around to face Therese, her expression bewildered, but there was a gentleness to it too. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I guess I don’t either.” Therese hadn’t thought through how she’d show the paintings to Carol beyond literally showing her them. What was the most appropriate way to introduce someone to themselves? And Carol wasn’t exactly giving her much to work with. It was still unclear if she was comfortable with having herself painted over and over again, in very personal settings, no less. “Carol, I - ”

She stopped when Carol held her hand out, palm down, as if requesting Therese to wait. “It’s just a very difficult thing for me to understand.”

What it was that was difficult, Therese didn’t know, but before asking she admired Carol admiring - at least seemingly so - herself. For once. It was another unfinished one, Carol, lying on her side in the grass just like she had on her birthday. The grass in the painting was overgrown, much more so than the grass in Washington Square Park had ever been, but Carol’s outfit from that day - the black denim shorts and thin white t-shirt and hint of a red bra - and the wine, were spot-on, as far as Therese was concerned. She’d noticed Carol picked at the grass beyond the cloth they sat on, pulling out strands as she spoke, but stopped when Therese was speaking. 

“You make me look so beautiful,” Carol almost whispered, turning again to Therese.

“I don’t make you look anything. You are that beautiful. You’re more beautiful.” It was true. Therese just painted what she saw right in front of her. 

Looking around the room, Carol’s face flushed. And because no complement could go down easy, she shot Therese a dismissive, “my eyes are _not_ that blue…” 

But sometimes they were. “They are when you look at me.”

It made Carol make small, quiet humming noise, her body visibly relaxing as she backed down from her practiced deflection. She came closer to Therese and rested her head on her shoulder, arms hanging limp at her sides before wrapping around Therese’s waist. And then Carol said, “thank you,” and Therese hugged her back. 

They spent a while in the studio, longer than Therese expected, because Carol couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away. Not that Therese minded one bit. 

“Those residencies Carrie was talking about? You should do it. Apply, at least. You’d get a spot in one.” 

Therese felt her throat constrict. She didn’t know what brought that to Carol’s mind, but she didn’t like the implication it offered, being away from Carol for so long. She told Carol as much, adding that they were expensive and time consuming.

“Living here in New York is expensive and time consuming. And we could figure it out, Therese.” Somehow Carol sounded so confident about it, and it made Therese feel slightly better too. And she really enjoyed how much Carol was saying ‘we.’ “I love you so much. But you can’t not try for this because of me. We can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

It wasn’t a promise, but Therese reluctantly told Carol she’d talk to Ruby more. The next time she saw her. Or she’d text her after New Years if it wasn’t before then. 

When it was past midnight, Therese asked Carol if she was ready to go. 

“No,” was Carol’s reply, still in some sort of awe.

“You know, they aren’t going anywhere.”

Carol turned to Therese and smiled. “Neither am I.”

The sentiment was lovely and layered and wasn’t wasted on Therese, but they did have to leave eventually, and did so soon after.

——

Neither were ready to go back to work on the 26th. Christmas had been a tease, a calm before the massive storm brought on by the days leading up to New Years Eve. Carol was going into work early that day solely to figure out just how the restaurant was going to manage the shameless overbooking they’d done. Somehow that job fell on her shoulders, too, cleaning up the reservation books fucked up by Harge and Jeanette. 

“Well, I’m a little to blame, too. There are some people we just _can’t_ turn away,” Carol added. They were walking to meet Jessica for coffee in Bed-Stuy. She apparently was a notoriously early-riser and Carol was grinning and bearing it at 9am. 

Somehow they beat Jessica there, and, after ordering their coffees, found a spot on a bench next to the window. Carol had been especially affectionate all of the previous night and it continued into the morning. When Carol rested her elbow on the table, head propped up in her hand, the other one gliding up and down Therese’s arm, they heard, “hi, Carol.” But it wasn’t Jessica. It definitely wasn’t one of Carol’s pervasive exes, either, because this girl was, like, twelve at most. 

The hand on Therese’s bicep stopped moving and squeezed, almost pinching, as Carol’s eyes widened. “Danika! Hi...” And then she looked up to the woman and another little girl walking toward them. “And there’s your sister and mom. Hey, Annapurna.”

The infamous Annapurna. Harge’s wife. Carol jumped to greet her, engaging in a quick back-and-forth about Christmas, the gift that Carol got Harge that Annapurna was so grateful for (it was a “grown up bag” to replace his tattered Adidas backpack), and then Carol said, “do you remember Therese?”

And _of course_ Annapurna did. They “met at the holiday party.” Her smile was disarming, and Therese found herself roped into the discussion of the upcoming work week. Annapurna really was a presence: insanely attractive, seemingly earnest in her kindness, smart, and for whatever reason very in-love with Harge. 

According to her two daughters, they had places to be, and they made it known when their boredom was about to overwhelm, cuing Annapurna’s hasty goodbye and departure. Both Therese and Carol watched as they walked completely out of sight, and then Carol sat back down. Therese feared the worst and but her lip to force herself to stay quiet, not to move suddenly and irk Carol, who was staring vacantly and tapping her fingernails on the wooden table.

“Well…that’s that.” Carol just went back to her coffee and traded rubbing Therese’s arm for resting her hand on her thigh. 

Therese was confused. “Do you think she’ll say anything to - ”

“Oh, definitely. No question.” Carol responded matter-of-factly. But Therese thought this was bad news? Her face showed it, and Carol picked up. “Not maliciously. She’ll say something to him - she probably is right now - thinking it’s cute and not really understanding why Harge wouldn’t be over-the-moon.”

But what did that mean, was Therese’s final question. Apparently all it meant was that Carol had to go into work even earlier than anticipated. She’d leave to get ready as soon as they were done seeing Jessica. It was odd to see Carol so calm, but not unwelcome in the least.

——

Getting ahead of the problem was Carol’s only real plan. As much as she could, anyway, but this was hardly ahead - and she was bothered with calling it a “problem,” too. “Catch up” to the “issue at hand” felt more fitting. 

Last week, she had told herself she would get to work at noon on the day after Christmas, but she arrived thirty minutes before, instead. She bypassed her own office and made her way to Harge’s, letting herself in and making herself comfortable and his far-better swivel chair. Busying herself with real work - rearranging reservations, sending confirmation texts - she waited, figuring Harge would stroll in sometime soon. 

He did, just after noon, and stood in his doorway with a tight-lipped grin and squinted eyes. 

They sized each other up, both knowing one of them had a real shitty hand and had gone all-in. Harge spoke first. “So, want to tell me what’s going on, Carol?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

That’s when Harge dropped his bag and his coy attitude along with it. He said, “bull _shit_ , dude,” and it made Carol laugh, timing be damned.

There was begging planned, crying if the situation called for it, bargaining, even, but Carol couldn’t get to any of it, because Harge asked, “Annapurna - she just saw you with your _good friend_ Therese earlier today, right?”

Maybe Harge had a shitty hand too. “Right…”

“And as long as I don’t hear one fucking peep about it - not one teeny, tiny, complaint - from anyone in this building, I shouldn’t be worried about you and Therese being friends, right?” Harge sat on his desk, close to Carol, and looked at her seriously. He was letting it go, but against all of his better judgement.

She didn’t realize how scared she had been until the relief washed over her, and she inhaled sharply before responding. “Right.”

That was it, and Harge motioned for Carol to get up from his chair and they switched spots in silence, then she made her way to the door and to her own office. It was the first time Carol had a real understanding of how painful it must’ve been for Therese to keep things a secret for so long. For the better part of a decade, Harge had been _well_ acquainted with Carol’s personal life, and vice-versa. When Taylor broke up with her, he let her cry in his office for over an hour before just sending her home altogether. He’d been vocal about his dislike for Cynthia from the beginning, though he helped her pick out her birthday gift. When they broke up, Harge said, “thank god,” and begged Carol to find someone worthwhile.

Now she had. She’d found somebody perfect for her - so perfect she would’ve married her last night if she could’ve - and all she wanted to do was talk about it with _everyone_ in her life. But, for the first time, she found that she couldn’t.


	22. Chapter 22

The days between Christmas and New Years seemed to blend together. Maybe it was the chaos of it all - stemming mostly from work - but the day after Christmas ( _the_ day, the day Harge found out and Carol insisted she’d handled it) wove seamlessly into the next one and the next one, like it was one long work shift and going home was just breaks for sleeping. Everyone at work thought of things in terms of before-Christmas and after-Christmas, with New Years Eve being the proverbial reset button it so often was.

There was of course more than just sleeping. Therese woke up at Carol’s on Thursday morning to a text from Gen asking if she wanted to go to yoga with her before work. After reading the text aloud, Carol responded unprompted and without hesitation. “You should definitely go.”

“Is that some sort of hint?” It was a joke, obviously, but Therese did consider how Carol so diligently kept her workout routine throughout the winter whereas Therese slacked, because, as Carol would begrudgingly note, _when you’re twenty-five you can afford it._

Not in the mood for jokes, Carol didn’t take the bait and replied without looking up from her one phone. “You should go because it’s her birthday and she has to work tonight, so go hang out with her and put her in a good mood.”

It was hard to decide what to be more surprised about: Gen’s birthday being that day or Carol knowing already and having to tell Therese. “I thought her birthday was in January. That’s when she’s celebrating…” Gen had invited a bunch of her friends to go out for drinks sometime during the first week of the new year. Therese didn’t know the exact date off the top of her head.

“Right, she’s _celebrating_ it then, because nobody is ever around or available on her actual birthday,” Carol explained. It made sense. “She’s bitched about it as long as I’ve known her. Anyway, she’s turning 29 this year, thank god. I’d be burned at the stake if I asked her to work on her 30th.”

When Therese first started working at the restaurant, Gen had made a comment about not knowing exactly how old Carol was, just that she wasn’t much older than herself or Therese or Dannie. And here was Carol, reminding Therese to tell Gen ‘happy birthday’ when she met her for yoga. 

Therese told Carol about Gen’s comment in September, her weirdness about not letting on how well she knew Carol. “That’s some bullshit. I invited her to my 30th birthday party. She was probably being evasive because she liked you - or _likes_ you - and was jealous that you were asking about me.”

That fit the bill, and Carol gave a satisfied little tilt of her head when she spoke of Therese _asking about her._

Wanting to fit in some time at her studio, Therese calculated the hours in her head; it wasn’t even ten yet, and Gen wanted to go in an hour. If she got ready fast enough afterwards, Therese could make it to the studio before work. She sighed and texted Gen back, then look toward Carol, who had burrowed back into her bed and was just watching Therese. “Can I borrow some leggings.” 

“Absolutely.”

Carol watched as Therese brushed her teeth. She was waiting and Therese wasn’t sure why, but it was making her uneasy. Toothbrush still in mouth, she asked, “can I help you?”

The sound of overgrown nails tapping incessantly on the bathroom door frame reminded Therese that she needed to tell Carol to cut those. “So, you know how my parents are visiting in a few weeks?”

Sometimes Carol missed her mother to the point of tears, and she’d brought up how excited she was to finally see her parents for the first time since July multiple times in the past couple weeks. Therese hadn’t forgotten. 

She nodded in response.

“Well, I realized I assumed but didn’t ever ask you…you’ll meet them, when they’re here, right? You’ll want to?” 

Really, Therese hadn’t been sure what would happen when Carol’s parents came. She desperately wanted to meet them. They came up in conversation enough, and Carol’s family was important to her, so she’d hoped Carol would want to introduce her. When nothing was ever said, Therese began lowering her expectations. But it made sense then: Carol had assumed, not bothering to ask. Therese was just glad she’d rinsed the toothpaste from her mouth or else she’d look like she’d have rabies with how big she smiled. 

“Of course I want to. I _really_ want to.”

“Oh, thank god.” Carol visibly relaxed, leaning against the wall. “My mom would secretly be so upset if she didn’t get to meet you.”

The feeling was mutual. 

\-----

Yoga with Gen wound up being fun. And quick enough for Therese to not feel pressed for time. It was sunny for December, and Gen walked with Therese part of the way back to her apartment, her own building in Williamsburg not far out of the way. Hanging out with Gen in a setting very far removed from work - and equally as far from Gen’s friends - reminded Therese of why she liked her. She could be fun, sometimes, and funny. Once out of the confines of the yoga studio and all its tranquility, Gen slid her sunglasses on and said, “look, I just can’t say ‘namaste’ to a white girl named Tiffany with a palm tree tattoo on her ankle. Why can’t we just say ‘thank you?’ We were listening to Lil Wayne. Nobody was there for spirituality, we were there for our fucking abs.”

The sentiment and how it was shared reminded Therese of Carol. It did sort of suck that Carol and Gen didn’t get along, because they weren’t complete opposites. And speaking of, “check out what Carol just texted me.” Gen was laughing and passed her phone to Therese for her to read. 

_Exactly one year from now, and every day after that, every person you meet will remind you to freeze your eggs, because they and you are not getting any younger. Happy birthday. Enjoy your last 365 days of peace._

And the followup:

_Also would you like red or white as my thank you to you for working on your birthday?_

While texting her back, Gen muttered, “she’s hilarious. I love her.”

Words that could’ve fooled pretty much anybody.

“You love her? Gen, you’re so fucking mean to Carol.” It just had to be said, because it was true. 

Gen crossed her arms and scoffed. “ _She’s_ mean to _me!_ ” 

Therese didn’t even try to hide the skepticism on her face, she didn’t want to. Because Gen had to know that she was the instigator. Obviously bummed at Therese’s reaction, Gen questioned just whose side she was on. There were no sides (there were, but for all intents and purposes...), she was just pointing out what the situation looked like from the outside. Not completely satisfied, Gen just said, “whatever,” and made Therese promise not to be bitchy to her on her birthday.

\-----

At the very end of the night, or early the next morning rather, Therese met back up with Carol at the restaurant, having left several hours before her, using the time at her studio. Everyone was gone, and Carol was just waiting on the dishwasher so she could lock up and leave. Sitting at her usual spot at the bar, doing never-ending work on her laptop, Carol pulled out the seat next to her for Therese to sit. With her arms folded on the counter, Therese laid her head in them and smiled when she felt Carol’s hand raking through her hair. 

After a few moments, Carol sighed. “I have to go tell Colton he has to leave. Whoever comes in tomorrow can finish up.” 

She disappeared into the kitchen and reemerged a minute later, Colton taking the lead as he scuffled over to a computer to clock out. As she packed up her laptop, Carol thanked Colton and said wished him a good night, only earning a terse, “later,” in return. 

The handful of times Therese had witnessed a similar exchange, Colton had been way more polite. Friendly, even. He liked Carol, Therese thought. “What was that about?”

Judging from the roll of her eyes, nothing that bothered Carol _too_ much. “He’s just angry because we can’t let the dishwashers get overtime anymore. And obviously since I make the schedule, it becomes my fault. Anyway, his hours were cut quite a bit when we hired another person in order to divvy up the hours. Hence the attitude.” Carol waved it away, though Therese knew she didn’t like always being the scapegoat for problems that were out of her hands. “Lyft is three minutes away.”

They went outside to wait, and Carol pried Therese for information about her talking with Ruby that afternoon. Therese had run into her at the studio, her plan to wait to contact her until after the new year foiled. But Ruby had been convincing once Therese gave her the slightest inkling of taking serious interest, and hours later flooded Therese’s email inbox with links and applications and brochures. 

“I think I’m going to do it. At least apply. I probably won’t get into any of them.” 

It was hard to not smile when Carol looked so happy, even if Therese couldn’t get the idea of separation out of her head. Doing a residency would be good for her, she knew. Getting away from the same people and places she saw every day, some she’d been seeing her entire life. Carrie had been right - Therese had lived in the city or nearby in Jersey forever. Upon learning that information, Ruby stressed the need for Therese to diversify her environment. It could be short or it could be long, but it couldn’t ever hurt. It couldn’t hurt her art, at least. There was at least more than half a year before any of the programs started - _if_ Therese was accepted - enough time to prepare herself mentally. 

Therese wondered if she would’ve been as hesitant about the residencies before meeting Carol, or if she was less so because she had. 

\-----

Tasked with decorating the restaurant - and three hours before they opened on New Years Eve supposedly being the ideal time to do so - Crystal looked exasperated, swamped among heaps of tangled string lights while she removed the ones that already adorned the front window frame. Therese felt morally obligated to offer assistance. Under Carol’s wise advice, most of the servers and bartenders had arrived to work _very_ early with the knowledge that there would be plenty extra to do. Finished with her own prep, Therese looked to see where she was needed, and Crystal certainly seemed like she could use it. When Therese asked, she screamed, “ _yes!_ ” in her face. “You can go find Harge and tell him that I bought - not one, not two, but _three_ \- sets of white string lights that are ‘smaller than the ones we already have,’ because they ‘look more New Years Eve.’ He needs to choose which ones I'm going to hang.” 

Air quotes and a deepened voice provided context as to which words were Harge’s and not Crystal’s nitpicky idea. It was a little ridiculous, but not altogether shocking. Like Carol, Harge was particular. Going to Harge’s office wasn’t exactly thrilling to Therese at the moment, all things considered, but she’d have to be alone with him at some point, so letting the awkwardness pass sooner rather than later was for the best. 

But Harge wasn’t alone in his office. Carol was there. And whether that made things better or worse was yet to be decided. With her back to the door, Carol couldn’t see Therese from the desk chair she sat in. She was barefoot with her feet on top of a cardboard box underneath Harge’s desk, black heels discarded by the office door. They both stared at Harge’s computer monitor, making snide little comments as he scrolled through Facebook. Harge was equally as relaxed, his feet shoeless and perched on his desk when he noticed Therese in his peripheral. 

“Well, well, well. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Using her bare foot for leverage, Carol spun her chair around to face the door, mouth staying a stoic line in front of Harge, but her eyes brightened considerably. 

Gone was the sweatshirt and jeans Carol had been wearing around the restaurant all afternoon, replaced by a dress that Therese hadn’t seen before. It was dark red velvet - purpley almost - and had sleeves that stopped at her elbows and a skirt that was just short of mid-thigh. Therese could’ve stared forever, died there willingly, had Harge not broken the silence with a loud noise emanating from a paper party horn, the kind that crinkled when you blew out and then rolled up again. It dangled between his teeth after he sounded the horn. 

He asked, “need something?” And Carol barely hid a grin between fingers from the hand her chin rested upon.

“Um, yes.” Suddenly aware of the time and the place, Therese remembered why she’d sought out Harge to begin with. “Crystal is having trouble choosing, like, the string lights? She said she bought a bunch and doesn’t know which you want.”

Harge grabbed his phone midway through Therese’s explanation, and told her after that he’d just text Crystal and ask for pictures. He didn’t feel like going “all the way upstairs.” He looked notably more festive as well, wearing a well-tailored sport coat over his usual attire, one that screamed “my very attractive and fashionable wife is in charge of buying my clothing.”

“Thanks, Therese. Is that it?” Harge swirled a giant ice cube around in the rocks glass he was holding, and only then did Therese realize him and Carol were drinking. 

It seemed odd, given the scramble happening upstairs in the dining room. Carol must’ve caught on to Therese’s eyes drifting from Harge’s glass and over to Carol’s, because her eyebrow quirked up, still wordlessly gazing at Therese. 

“Are you two just drinking in here or…?” It didn’t _not_ feel appropriate to ask. 

Scoffing, Carol finally found her voice. “You fucking bet we are.” She twirled back around in her chair, facing Harge’s computer screen once again. “We deserve it.”

Harge just laughed and clinked his glass with Carol’s. It was a scene Therese wasn’t quite ready to leave, so she tried her luck and prodded a bit. “What are you drinking?”

“Clase Azul Anejo.” The answer Harge provided might have also been a clue as to why he was being so...forthcoming. 

“So you’re just drinking tequila and looking at Facebook?”

Turning just slightly, a teasing challenge to Therese’s continued presence, Carol answered. “That’s correct. Except _one of us_ is doing it wrong because said person dropped a giant chunk of ice in their four hundred dollar tequila.”

Clearly not one to be mocked without retaliation, Harge waved for Therese to come further into his office. “I’ve got an idea: let’s look at some photos of Carol from when she was around your age.” He used his cordless mouse out of Carol’s reach to get to his Facebook photo albums without obstruction.

There were dozens of them, meticulously organized and clearly named. Therese noticed Carol’s frustration turned to confusion. “Why is everything filed away so perfectly? Can’t you just have thousands of photos on your phone that you won’t delete but never look at like everybody else?”

It only spurred Harge on more, and he looked pleased with himself when he came upon what he was looking for. A collection of pictures marked, _Dilettante Holiday Party Jan 2012._

Before revealing its contents, Harge explained the context. Dilettante was the first place he and Carol had ever worked together. Not long before the photos were taken, he had just become the GM, and not long _after_ the photos were taken, Carol was moved from serving to bartending, “because she’d become a little abrasive with guests over the years.” Not that Harge blamed her. 

Ignoring Carol’s pleas for him to stop - disregard for which Therese was glad - Harge turned back to the screen. “So let’s take a trip down memory lane, yeah?”

Carol answered “no,” but he clicked anyway, scrolling until he found photos of her. He provided commentary, noting Carol’s very slightly thinner eyebrows and longer hair that was in an attempted bun in most photos, “this was a very minimal makeup phase for you.” When he started pointing out people that Therese didn’t know, Carol softened a little, and her focus went to trying to remember what each person was doing now. Paulina worked at Olmsted, Carol knew because she’d just run into her the week prior. Vince used to work at Le Bernardin - his current whereabouts unknown. But Viviana would probably know, they were close friends. “She does real estate now.” 

Again there was Carol, looking unhappy as ever to be having her photo taken. It made Therese laugh, because some things probably wouldn’t ever change, and she could spend years finding ways around Carol’s camera-shyness, already working on one method.

Apparently the picture itself hadn’t been the only source of Carol’s disgruntlement. “I was especially upset because it was Gigi’s last day,” she pointed to a girl next to her with choppy black hair and a piercing through the bridge of her nose, “ _and_ Taylor was there. Probably being a cunt.”

That Taylor was the other girl in the photo went unspoken. Another curveball, it wasn’t who Therese was expecting. The girl resting her head on Carol’s shoulder, clearly smaller in stature, didn’t exactly read “cunt.” Taylor’s face was cute, small and full lips and high cheekbones. She had short messy hair, almost looking boyish. 

Harge blew on his party horn again before finishing his drink, and said, “she was kind of mean.”

A decisive nod of her head accompanied Carol’s response. “Understatement. She told me that she couldn’t be with someone who’s only job prospect was becoming a ‘glorified alcoholic.’” She glanced over at Therese and batted her eyelashes, seemingly over it now. But still, it had to sting. Looking back to Harge, Carol added, “which was funny, considering she was the one who would get drunk five nights a week and throw shit around our apartment.”

With a drawn out, tired whistle, Harge went to find a different photo album, effectively changing the subject. 

“Who’s Gigi?” 

Carol gave a sad, whiny groan and let Harge answer for her. 

“Nobody important. Just Carol’s work wife. Her first work spouse, before me.” 

Other than Abby, Gigi was her best friend. And other than Abby, the reason Carol got into wine. But then her and her husband moved to Portland and more recently Detroit, “remember when I told you I went to Detroit for a day on my way to San Francisco over the summer?”

Well, Therese remembered - now that she mentioned it, Carol talked about Gigi quite a bit, just without a specific name, more often her "friend who moved to Michigan." And truthfully, it was relieving to hear just who it was Carol had been visiting on that trip, because until now, Therese had always assumed Carol’s “friend” was more like a sex-friend, because that’s the type of person who usually would try to convince you to move to where they lived. But a former-best friend fit the description too. Noticing Harge raise his eyebrows and run his tongue over his teeth, likely at the ‘remember when I told you’ part, Therese only gave the smallest of nods, urging Carol to move on. 

There were more photos that Harge wanted to pick apart and laugh at, some with himself and Carol, from over three years ago at Harge’s birthday party. Carol was undoubtedly skinnier. Already lithe, the Carol from three years ago was missing about ten pounds. She looked annoyed, too, though she insisted she wasn’t. “I was actually in a good mood that day. I remember it pretty well.”

A debate sparked about what Carol had given Harge for his birthday that particular year. Thinking the drift in conversation might mean it best for Therese to leave, she was blocked by Richard’s sudden appearance at the door before she could make it out. 

He, too, had string lights. Another ambassador for Crystal. “Hey, Crystal’s saying these don’t fit in the - ” His gaze landed on the computer screen. “Holy shit, Carol, how long ago was that? You look pissed.” 

And that was enough for Carol. She snatched the mouse from Harge and clicked her way out of his Facebook and told Therese to go find something to do. Not in a mean way, just a managerial one. Because despite this brief diversion - and its strange allowance from Harge - Carol was still her manager and needed to act like it sometimes. 

Figuring she’d return back to Crystal, ready to do whatever was next in the world of holiday lights, Therese wandered back upstairs. She thought about all of those pictures of Carol and how different she appeared. Physically, besides some longer or different shade of hair, and a somewhat lankier frame, there wasn’t too much of an obvious change. But Therese couldn’t help thinking she was looking at a completely different person. The person in the photos was the Carol that Therese had met on her very first day of work, when she had to tell her Cynthia was asking for her. Though the Carol she’d sat in the office with, at the end of that same day, was closer to the one she knew now. 

Once service started, it grew busier and rowdier and drunker as the night ticked on. The year before, Therese had managed to get out of working on New Years Eve, but Dannie hadn’t, and poor planning had her hanging out with a guy she’d just been seeing for a few weeks and too many of his friends that Therese didn’t know. It wasn’t bad, it was just nothing. Unremarkable. Though Therese hadn’t cared all that much. It was just the ending and beginning of one day and the next. 

Once again, she was in a room outnumbered by strangers. But the upside was that these strangers were giving her money. A lot of it, because Carol had made a solid half of the wine list for the evening sparkling wine. And the cheapest - a forty-eight dollar bottle of Crémant - added up when it was ordered three or four times by just one table. And the amount of strangers didn’t matter when Therese could crane her head around to find Carol, gliding around, opening bottle after bottle of wine and champagne. She smiled a lot, more than Therese had ever witnessed at work. Maybe she just _fucking loved_ New Years Eve. 

At 11:30pm, Carol needed help retrieving bottles from her office. She asked Therese if she was busy, or rather, “what are your tables doing?” And Therese told her - truthfully - that they wouldn’t need her for awhile. 

“Great, follow me.” 

Down to the basement and past the liquor cage, into Carol’s cramped wine-cellar-slash-office they went. A plastic crate was slid to Therese’s feet and Carol rummaged around, looking for particular bottles and handing them off for Therese to pack. 

“Do you really like New Years or something?”

Carol stopped her searching and stood up straight, walking a little closer to Therese. “No. I don’t like it, usually. It never winds up being fun. You have to pay to go anywhere and it’s always a letdown. That's why I prefer to work, I suppose. I do every year.”

“You seem different.” 

It didn’t come out as intended and Therese instantly regretted her wording when Carol’s easy smile faltered. 

“Different? How - ?”

She’d meant it as a good thing. “Not different today, exactly, but different from those pictures that Harge was showing us.”

When Carol’s grin faded entirely, Therese _really_ felt horrible. She tried to walk back and find a better way of putting it, but Carol responded too quickly. “I am different, I think.” Her smile reappeared, not the one she’d brought from upstairs, but one that was only meant for Therese. “I’m happy. For the longest time I thought, ‘maybe this will be as good as it gets.’ I thought that I might not get to be _truly_ happy or excited about my life and, honestly, I’d become okay with that. Sure, I was angry _a lot_ but I decided that I was probably going to feel that way - or some version of it - for the rest of my life and that was just who I was as a person. But then,” Carol looked around, just beyond Therese or around her, like she was watching a projection from her head play out in front of her. Therese tilted her head to the side, waiting, until Carol’s eyes found hers. “I met you.”

Whether or not it was a suitable response, Therese found herself nodding her head, because for the longest time, she’d been _fine_ with everything. With anything. She had her outlet for residual childhood traumas by way of four-by-six canvases smeared and stained with oils. She had Dannie and their circle of friends and why put in effort for a more fulfilling love when the risk was high and experience showed it was rarely returned? Apathy was tolerable, she could work with it. Year after year, everything was fine, she’d date someone and it was fine, they’d breakup - still fine. Right when fine was about to become _too_ fine - too dull - just when Therese thought that she might have lost her capacity for emotional extremes (had she ever really possessed it?) everything was very far from fine. 

Because Carol was mesmerizing and terrifying and galvanizing and all the _ings_ that Therese had missed. Her year - many of them, really - had been separated into before-meeting-Carol and after-meeting-Carol, and for once the allure of the new year wasn’t totally beyond her understanding. Therese would be able to look forward to - even be invigorated by - the end of the day and the beginning of the next.

Maybe Carol had the same feeling, too, of a time before-meeting-Therese and one after, because she just asked, “will you come to my place tonight? When I get out of here? Even if you leave way earlier and go home - I’ll pay for your Lyft. Or I can come to your place. I just want to wake up with you tomorrow.”

Nodding was, again, just about all Therese was capable of, and it was enough because it made Carol smile. They definitely needed to get back upstairs, though. A room full of drunk adults needed their attention. Therese watched Carol line up ninety stem glasses in neat rows and sloppily pour sparkling wine into them with Jack’s help. Everyone in the restaurant was counting down but Therese could hardly hear it, because Carol just watched her silently from the other side of the room and that was noise enough. And midnight must’ve happened because those stupid fucking noisemakers Harge had started tossing out replaced the chanting, but Therese still didn’t stop staring at Carol until she winked at her and tossed back her glass of champagne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another note: like, truly, thank you for reading. This has been getting some serious hits lately and like what?!? It’s really fucking cool knowing that even, like, 10 people read this, and that many more is insane to me. I’m not a real writer, I don’t do writing of any kind at my job, so when I see so much engagement happening, it blows my mind.


	23. Chapter 23

Every time a guest told Therese, “Happy Friday,” she considered taking their water glass and dumping it directly into their lap. The sentiment was friendly, sure, but short-sighted at best when saying it to a server at 8pm in a restaurant that looked like it was very likely violating its maximum capacity. There was nothing happy about Fridays. They were too busy for January (it was supposed to be slow) and understaffed. Even Carol - who should’ve been on cloud nine knowing her parents would be in town in two days - had whispered to Therese, “what secret sexual fantasy do you have that I could fulfill for you in exchange for you calling in a bomb threat right about now?”

But Therese hadn’t taken up the offer and so they were still plugging away and counting down the hours. 

Weeks ago - a few days into January - Therese had sold a painting through a gallery. She could’ve used the extra money, saved it, but instead took off Mondays from work for the following six weeks. Mondays were Carol’s day off, too, but she’d been using the newly freed time to work in the studio and finish up a handful of residency applications. Ruby had wound up being more of a resource than Therese could’ve ever imagined, helping her narrow her options to places where she wouldn’t be required to live in provided housing (Therese had cohabited with strangers not-of-her-choosing for the better part of her lifetime and didn’t feel like going back to that again) and where she’d get some sort of stipend, because not many allowed for artists to maintain jobs, not that Therese was particularly interested in doing so. Ruby had also steered Therese away from applying anywhere too close to the city, because it was “defeating the purpose of these programs - to get away from the familiar and immerse yourself into a new community.” Therese didn’t like that Ruby was right. 

But when Therese showed up to work every Thursday through Sunday night, the fear of actually being accepted to one of the programs, of having to leave the comfort of New York, was largely diminished. The stress and chaos of the restaurant made getting far away from it all seem like the only reasonable option.

The second part - the hefty cliffnote in all of Therese’s plans - was Carol. Carol needed a change, too, a different job where she didn’t have to manage a restaurant in order to do what she wanted. But Therese hadn’t brought it up lately, she herself still fearful of the implication of them being apart. It wasn’t set in stone, anyway, and there was a good chance Therese wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, even come August when a lot of the residencies she’d applied for would start.

On January 25th, “Happy Friday” guy was saved from a tableside Acqua Panna shower by Gen, who discreetly got Therese’s attention to motion for her to come with her when she was done at the table. It was nothing all-too important, but it did bring Therese to Carol, who needed to explain to the both of them the wines she had just sold to their respective tables. 

Appropriate for the disorganization of the night, Carol was hardly able to finish two sentences when she was interrupted by Crystal. Crystal hadn’t really interrupted her, she’d just stood close enough - looking on and waiting - for Carol to be distracted by her presence.

“Yes?” She snapped, looking annoyed as she grabbed the chit that Crystal held out, snatched it really, but her demeanor shifted entirely as she read. First Therese and Gen were confused, because Carol looked puzzled, too, and then the tension that had covered Carol’s face for weeks was gone from her expression and she grinned and looked at Crystal. “What?”

Crystal just smiled, pleased with herself, and directed her gaze toward the front of the restaurant. Whatever Carol was going to elaborate on was abandoned as she took off, walking quicker than her usual fast pace, leaving Therese and Gen without explanation. It wasn’t hard to figure out, though. 

In the couple pictures Therese had seen, she thought Carol looked more like her dad, but in person Carol was a distinct mix of both. And it wasn’t just hearing Carol gasp, “ _mom,_ ” before wrapping her arms around her mom’s neck (even through the crowded and loud restaurant, Therese heard it, and it melted her whole heart) that made her seem uncharacteristically childlike, but her parents were both taller, her mom less noticeably but her father especially. 

Therese hadn’t considered her staring until Gen started talking. “Well, I guess that’s cute or whatever, but what the fuck am I supposed to know about this wine at table forty?” She put her notepad back into her apron and shrugged. “I’m sure it’s nothing beyond our capabilities, just expensive shit. Crystal, who’s taking Carol’s parents?”

Brought back from her own little moment of watching Carol, Crystal’s smile disappeared, probably reminded of having to go back to her own job, which largely involved making people unhappy. “Oh yeah. I don’t know, they’ll probably sit at the bar. But can you guys give these to Harge and Chef?” 

She passed off two chits containing notes from the restaurant’s reservation book to Therese and Gen. The restaurant took notes on all of the guests whenever necessary or important. Allergies, preferences, who was a fucking asshole, which people were truly important to the restaurant and which people thought they were, and who in the building needed to be notified when the former vistited.

Therese read the small scrap of paper in her hand. 

_Robert, Aird. Carol’s dad. Mom is Martha. PPX. Alert Carol (fucking obviously), Alert Harge, Alert Chef, Alert Jeanette. Only drink San Pellegrino, not tap, not Acqua Panna. Only let Carol pour wine, per Carol. Jack can too if she’s busy. Dad likes Don Julio 1942. Mom hates truffles. Rarely eat dessert. Never with Richard. Seat with Genevieve when possible, not a big deal. Don’t always need table, will dine at bar. $$$$._

Like a knee-jerk reaction, Therese turned to Gen and asked, “Carol’s parents like you?”

Understandably, Gen looked a little offended at Therese’s surprise. “Yes? I mean, Carol told me they liked sitting with me because I don’t breathe down their necks. I just let them order and eat and leave them alone. Anyway, I’ll go tell Chef and Harge that they’re here.”

Gen wandered off, her words _they’re here_ hitting Therese like a train. She wasn’t ready. They were supposed to come in on Sunday, late at night, late enough that they were just going to go directly to their hotel and then Therese would meet them Monday night when they all went to dinner. She had her outfit picked out. That was the plan. Not this, not surprising Carol at work. She didn’t know how to act, suddenly too aware of her movements. 

Not a second too soon, Dannie entered her line of vision, and Therese caught his eye and then his arm when he got close enough. She pulled him aside, into the narrow hallway leading to the kitchen.

“How do I look? What do I look like right now?”

Dannie’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head, obviously perplexed without the necessary context. “You look…beautiful, but you also look crazy.”

“Carol’s parents are here.” There was a mirror to Therese’s left and she frantically toyed with her hair, smoothing loose strands behind her ears and tightening her ponytail in an attempt to make it look more intentional. 

“Aren’t they supposed to be?” It wasn’t as if Therese expected Dannie to keep track of the exact dates, but she’d divulged her fears enough in the past weeks that she hoped he’d have a little more understanding. And he did, it just took him a minute to get there. “Therese, you look great. You always look _really_ good at work. It get it - yeah, yeah, yeah...tips. And they’ll love you. Nobody meets you and doesn’t love you immediately. Of course, once they get to know you…”

His words earned him a glare that was both facetious and thankful. It didn’t entirely calm her nerves, but it helped. And maybe having Dannie in the building - just knowing he was there - when she met Carol’s mom and dad was for the better. She had tables still, obviously, and decided to direct her attention to them for the time being. After taking one table’s drink order, dropping a check at another, and then pointing out all of the menu items that could be made gluten-free at the next, Therese saw Carol standing at a nearby server station - one that was the most logical for Therese to use given her proximity. She wasn’t avoiding Carol, she was just scared. But Carol looked elated, with barely a trace of her earlier frustrations lingering. 

Trying her best to appear relaxed, Therese just said a quick, “hey,” before turning to the computer to put in an order. 

Carol looked from side to side, insuring their privacy. “I’m so sorry,” Carol was biting her bottom lip when Therese glanced back at her. 

“Why are you sorry?” Therese knew why, but she didn’t want Carol to feel bad. 

But still, she let Carol continue. “Because I know that you weren’t expecting to have to meet my parents tonight at work. And I wanted you to be comfortable when you did - and I know this is anything but. They know that, too, though. They came in early to surprise me. And to see my dad’s friend tomorrow night while we’re at work. Will you go by and introduce yourself to them when you get the chance? They’re just sitting at the bar drinking. Eating eventually, I hope.” There was no turning down Carol. Ever, but especially when she looked like she was doing her best not to let her excitement seep out of her. “Gen already beat you to it.”

That would do the trick, too. 

A squeeze on Therese’s waist from Carol as she sauntered off, leaving Therese to rush to type in drinks for her table, spurred her on more. Not usually one to have fears surrounding meeting-the-parents, Carol’s were different. Partly because Carol was different _to_ Therese, but also because Carol was different _from_ Therese. Or rather, Therese from Carol, depending on who was comparing. 

Carol was thirty-four, her primary source of income was her _career_ \- not just a day job, she lived alone, she came from a close family - one that had more money than Therese thought Carol let on - and Therese was afraid she would come across immature or unserious. Time and time again, Carol had reassured Therese that her parents _weren’t like that_ but the feeling still sat dormant somewhere deep down. But that feeling wouldn’t have gone anywhere in the next two days, so meeting them in the next two minutes would at least rip off the bandaid.

Putting one foot in front of the next was easier said than done. Therese was stopped to “run this drink” or “take this to dish” on her first try, but after she finally made her way to the bar. 

Carol’s mom was turned away from where Therese stood on her other side, and it was then she realized she hadn’t thought of what to say. Surely, “hi, I’m Therese,” would have to work. But did it sound stupid? Did they already know? Or was that too presumptuous? But Carol’s mom solved her problem for her, and noticed Therese immediately when she turned toward her. 

“Hi, I’m - ”

“Therese! Of course. We know.” Her voice was deep like Carol’s and Therese couldn’t help her smile. “Robert,” she was swatting for her husband’s attention over her shoulder until he turned. “Robert, this is Therese.”

There were introductions that gave Therese a clear indication to call Carol’s mom Martha and her dad Robert. Carol had told Therese as much, but she wanted to be _sure_. There were jokes too, Robert claiming he _of course_ knew it was Therese - he’d recognize her more than his own daughter considering how many times Martha had showed him photos of her on Instagram. 

Rolling her eyes like Carol, Martha said, “it was maybe two times,” while Robert made a face behind her. 

Something about the two of them put Therese at ease. It was unexpected but welcome. They were less intense than Carol, for sure, and it was no shock that their presence did wonders to calm Carol’s nerves. Therese found herself easily slipping into conversation about them arriving early, making a point to share how much Carol had been looking forward to their visit. She asked about where they were going the next night with Robert’s friend when Carol popped up from behind the bar, her eyes skeptical. 

“Therese, do you work here still or should I get you a menu?”

It was snarky and Therese blushed but Carol’s mom scoffed. “ _Carol._ We’re just talking, don’t be rude.” 

Leaning closer over the bar, Carol lowered her voice. “It’s not rude, mom. I’m her manager and I have to tell her to go back to work.”

That wasn’t untrue, and Therese gave Carol’s parents a simple goodbye, promising to catch them before they left. She found herself going through the motions when she got back to work, her mind elsewhere. She wanted an excuse to go back to Carol’s parents again, her anxiety from before nowhere to be found. Martha did seem to like her, and she wanted to continue to bask in that feeling. 

It was Carol who gave her the excuse to pay her parents another visit. She asked first if Therese would be comfortable - if she had been comfortable the first time. 

“I am. I really like them, Carol.” 

Carol just smiled and handed Therese a nearly finished bottle of Gevrey. “Great. Can you go pour the rest of this for them?”

Of course she could.

Doing her best to not lock eyes with Harge, who was listening to an animated story told by Robert, Therese poured Martha the wine Carol had given her and asked if she was having a good time.

“I always am when I’m here.” Martha wasn’t as ostentatious had Dannie’s mother, but she was definitely agreeable. And she seemed a little drunk, too. 

It was great for Therese, because she wasn’t sure if she would’ve gotten the same insight out of her otherwise. “I’ve known Carol a long time - her entire life, you might say. I have never seen her look at anybody the way she looks at you.” 

While Therese died inside, Martha looked into her wine glass, and then added, “don’t tell her I said that. She’d kill me.”

——-

A white sweater with grey sleeves, skinny jeans, and lace-up boots that put her at the same height as Carol - that was the outfit Therese was supposed to be wearing when she first met the Airds. Not her work uniform. But they’d liked her regardless, and Therese hadn’t yet come down from the high of Martha’s comment. Still, she put extra effort into her hair and makeup, and for the past ten minutes had been vacillating between up or down. Up. Or down? Down. No, up. 

“Therese, come _on._ ” Carol had been ready for at least twenty minutes, maybe longer. 

Half up, half down. Half ponytail would work. Well, it would have to, because Carol was clearly getting restless. And Therese didn’t want to be the reason they were late to meet her parents. 

Therese was about to put on her coat when Carol stopped her. “You look really hot.”

“Hot? I wasn’t going for ‘hot.’” Therese didn’t want Carol’s parents to think she was trying to look hot. 

“That’s not what I mean. _I_ think you look hot - but I think that all the time. You look beautiful. Better?”

It would do, Therese supposed. Even if Carol didn’t realize it, she calmed Therese on the train ride by holding her hand and entertaining her with mindless conversation about “those ugly fucking orthopedic shoes everyone is obsessed with.”

They took the B to Lafayette and Therese remembered that Carol’s parents were staying at The Bowery. Because of course they were - it was trendy and classy and expensive. Just thinking about it made Therese feel out of place, and that feeling increased tenfold when Carol walked her through the lobby like she’d done this hundreds of times (because she probably had) and found her parents at the bar drinking Manhattans. 

“Hi. Excuse me? Do we get to catch up or...?” She kissed her mom on the cheek and gazed back at Therese. 

“Oh god, Carol. We’re were having one drink while we waited for you two. Always feeling so left out.” The last part was directed to Therese and she quickly smiled back, happy to be included.

“Well, we have reservations so let’s…” Carol finished her mom’s drink for her in one sip. “Let’s get a move on.”

Observing Carol with her parents was a fascinating pleasure. Carol’s voice and her facial expressions were nearly identical to her mother’s, but she acted like her dad. They both clearly liked taking the lead. Even just stepping out onto the street outside of the Bowery, both fought to hail a cab. When they checked in at the restaurant, Robert asked, “is it under my name?” And Carol just smirked, challenging, and said, “no, it’s under _mine.”_

Putting the reservation under Carol’s name wasn’t without reason. Therese had witnessed it plenty of times. Carol’s name meant they didn’t wait to be seated, like other people whose reservations were running behind. It also meant food was sent out and the sommelier came by right away. Therese knew Carol didn’t always like showing off, but with her parents it was a different story. And her dad was impressed - jealous maybe, just a little, but in a proud way. 

Therese had an idea of Carol’s parents leading up to their visit. It was derived from things she knew about them: they were relatively wealthy (Carol always said “very comfortable,” which was an understatement), Martha had her master’s, Robert owned a real estate development company, and they had lived in Seattle for decades - a place that, for some reason, felt completely separate from Therese’s working class East Coast upbringing. According to their Ma Moitié guest notes, they only drank bottled sparkling water and Martha had eaten fresh truffles enough to know she _hated_ them. And then there was Carol: the smartest, most curious human being Therese had ever met. Occasionally pretentious, often a know-it-all, Therese figured Carol’s sophistication must’ve been hereditary, that Martha and Robert would grill Therese on art and wine and literature or current events and the political climate and her thoughts on everything. 

So when she found herself in the crossfire of a heated debate over whether Brittany _really_ wanted to marry Jax, Therese was lost, to say the least. “Wait - who?”

“Oh, sorry,” Carol apologized to and for Therese and then turned to her parents. “Therese doesn’t watch _Vanderpump Rules_. She’s way too good for that.”

They all laughed and Therese kind of did too, but tried to reassure them that that wasn’t the reason. It was a relief though, something about them loving trashy reality television. They also knew next to nothing about wine, they weren’t uncultured when it came to art, but elementary enough that when Therese explained her love of color field, she wasn’t telling them something they already knew. 

Politics came up, something was said that set Carol off, and she snapped at her dad, “that’s just because you _love_ capitalism,” and Martha wanted no part of whatever was about to happen. She sought refuge with Therese, letting Carol and her dad duke it out themselves. 

“They know how to get under each other’s skin and love doing it. You just have to let it pass.” She poured Therese more wine - they were on their third bottle of Sancerre - and leaned her elbow on the table. “So Carol told me you have a studio space that you rent, too? Just for working on your art?”

“I do. It’s shared, of course, but my apartment is way too small to function as a workspace.”

“God, that must get so expensive. Carol’s apartment already blows my mind.”

She was right on both accounts; Therese’s two rents were costly and Carol’s two thousand dollar-per-month one bedroom apartment was crazy. Neither were avoidable, though. They could live together, but Therese wasn’t about to say something like that to Martha and she wasn’t sure she’d even be in New York come August. 

“You know, it is expensive.”

When Martha laughed, Therese relaxed more, and told her about applying for residencies (Carol had apparently explained these to her, or tried to) and how Carol had been so encouraging about doing it. She just wanted Carol to encourage herself to aspire to similar things - a life she loved beyond being able to see Therese each day.

“As much as I love hearing that - because I think you’re beyond good for her - she’s a big girl, and needs to make that kind of decision on her own.” Martha finished her wine and Therese hoped she hadn’t overstepped. “But before you two started dating, all I heard from her was how miserable she was and how she wanted to move home. I don’t hear that anymore.”

“Don’t hear what anymore?” Whatever it was that kept Carol and Robert preoccupied was no longer interesting, apparently, but Martha just brushed it off with, “nothing, sweetie,” and winked at Therese. 

——-

“I feel bad,” Therese was a little drunk and happy and glad to finally have Carol alone again.

Carol was drunk, too, because even though she was elated her parents were in town, it still stressed her out a little. “Do not feel bad. My dad always pays, so get used to it.”

Getting used to it was something Therese would do, because she planned on having many more nights with Carol and Martha and Robert - even after tomorrow, when they were all going to the Brooklyn Museum and then dinner. 

The makeup she’d so meticulously applied, that Martha had complimented her on, came off easier than it went on, and when she looked back in the mirror after rinsing her face, Carol was behind her. She was about to ask what she wanted, but Carol’s hand snaked around Therese’s waist while her nose buried itself into her neck. 

“I love you so much, baby. Thank you. For tonight.” Carol didn’t move from her place behind Therese before continuing. “They love you. I can tell. More than anybody else I’ve introduced to them. That I can absolutely promise you.”

For once, Therese didn’t doubt that she belonged. It wasn’t that she was out-of-place with Dannie’s family. Or she hadn’t been made to feel that way. But she didn’t have a specific reason for fitting in with them. She could be the daughter Carrie never had for awhile, but eventually Carrie would get two daughters-in-law from Dannie and Phil, and Therese would rightfully be the odd one out. But Carol’s parents made Therese feel at home like Dannie’s always had, but she felt more purposeful with them, like she could slide into their family dynamic easily and have the best and most important reason for being there.

She turned around and kissed Carol for longer than intended. “I love you more.”

——

They weren’t supposed to come into town for two more days, and as stressed as that made Carol in-the-moment, she pushed it aside to revel in the fact that her parents were there, with her, and would be for two extra days. She did feel bad though, knowing Therese might feel slightly on the spot. But she wasn’t worried for Therese. Therese was perfect and her parents would likely not be able to get enough.

She found them spots at the bar, because her mom and dad had never been snobby about anything, but especially about where they sat in a restaurant. And unsurprisingly, her mom immediately asked, “is Therese here?” right when they sat down. 

Pointing was never proper in a restaurant setting, so Carol tried to motion with her eyes. It worked too well. Her mom stared and jabbed her dad’s arm to get his attention, saying “that’s Therese,” too loud for Carol’s comfort. 

And they both stared, and Carol said, “Jesus, guys, _stop. Please._ ”

Always the comedian, her mom said, “sorry, are you afraid she’ll think you have a crush on her? We can’t have that, obviously.” 

Carol felt herself blushing and hated it, but loved it too, because she acted like that, like she had a crush on Therese, because she still did. She watched her walk across the room and still got nervous when she called, and even when Therese was about to meet her parents, Carol prayed for Therese to still like her, to still want her. Because she wanted Therese forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lengthy break in chapters. My manager doesn’t understand that “my fans” love me but he _does_ understand that I love money so......
> 
> Oh, PPX essentially means VIP, by the way. I believe it stands for personne particulierement extraordinaire. It’s often used as a discreet way to say VIP.


	24. Chapter 24

Listening to Carol mill about her apartment in the morning was soothing. Almost enough to lull Therese back to sleep, but she fought through it, wanting to stay awake. Carol knew she was awake, too. Before she had left the bed, she kissed around Therese’s bare shoulder and collarbone and then threw more of the comforter on top of her when she hopped up. 

Therese listened as Carol splashed water on her face, opened her medicine cabinet for toothpaste and brushed her teeth. She heard her leave the bathroom and head into the living room - the sound of clinking glasses from the night before, likely taking them to the kitchen to wash by hand, foregoing the dishwasher to put off having to empty the clean dishes. 

It was a Tuesday and one of the first full days they’d spend together in what must’ve been weeks. Therese hadn’t even slept at Carol’s apartment the entire weekend. She’d been on a roll with painting and finally completed two of the five, leaving her relieved and with a renewed sense of accomplishment. But she’d spent each of the prior seven days at the studio, only leaving to drag herself to work or back to her apartment, just to sleep. Carol missed her, she said, but didn’t mind the timing. Thursday had been Valentine’s Day, making every workday of the weekend following it hours longer.

The full day together was supposed to be their set aside time to celebrate Valentine’s Day, and both wanted to do all of nothing. Lie around Carol’s apartment, either leave to get food or order delivery, watch movies, drink wine. That was the plan. No gifts or anything like that, though on actual Valentine’s Day, Therese had given Carol a handmade card meant to mimic one from a pack of store-bought cards for children to hand out in class. It had a space for the “to” and “from” and heart-shaped balloons of various colors. She had attached a small package of cherry Twizzlers to the back and plopped it on Carol’s desk in front of her before she left. 

In return, she was called a bitch through smiling lips and Carol groaned that she didn’t have anything to give Therese. 

“Wait,” she stopped Therese from opening the door to leave and sifted through a drawer in her desk. She tossed something small and metal at her. “Here. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

They were keys. Therese eyed Carol. “What are…?”

“The one with the blue stripe is the front door and the green stripe is the door-door. To my apartment.” Carol wasn’t looking at Therese but instead at her laptop, playing around with making the schedule. “So you don’t have to keep waiting for me or taking my spare keys and bringing them back.”

To prevent Carol from further diminishing the gesture, Therese bit back too big of a grin, instead just smiling and saying, “oh, thanks. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Therese swore she could feel a self-satisfied smirk on Carol’s lips as she kissed her goodnight. 

And that was how she’d let herself into Carol’s apartment on Monday night. Before leaving the studio, she had texted Carol to let her know she was heading over. Most of the evening had been spent with Ruby, getting help on her new artist’s statement. Therese’s CV and references and photographs of her work were all ready to be sent, the short statement being the last piece to the puzzle. It was still a work in progress, but a carefully crafted line of questioning from Ruby helped Therese figure out just why exactly she’d changed her style of painting so abruptly. 

She held her more abstract pieces near and dear, of course, and they were the overwhelming majority of her body of work, but they’d been created with the idea and feeling of chaos. Therese’s entire life had been restless and unsteady and her paintings had always been similarly unsettling. That was her intent, of course, and it was rarely lost in translation. But when her feelings of instability began to wane - disappear altogether, really - it only made sense that she’d move on in her art, too. And what better way to do that than by capturing the reason for it all?

 _That,_ Ruby had said, would be what she’d say in her residency applications. Part of the benefits of a residency is exploring what change brings about in an artist’s work - how they thrive, how they struggle, or succeed, or grow. Ruby told Therese if she felt so inclined, to email her a draft of what she was planning to send. She was going out of town for a few weeks, but would be happy to help regardless. 

“Why are you? So happy to help, that is.” Therese was packing her things quickly, eager to get to Carol’s. 

“Because I wouldn’t have had the opportunities I’ve been given without people doing the same with me.” Ruby rolled her up with a hair stick. It was a new shade of blue, this time bordering on indigo. “Community is hard to find. Especially in a city as big as New York. You’d think it would be easier, considering all of the people, but it’s just not an artists’ city anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

Therese had been bad about asking Ruby personal questions, but to be fair, Ruby only ever asked Therese for necessary information. “Then why are you here still?”

“My husband.” Ruby shrugged. A simple explanation. “He’s a full-time faculty member at Tisch.”

“Ah.” Therese nodded her head, sensing a bit of displeasure in the way Ruby said _Tisch._ Apparently either not the biggest fan of NYU or her husband working there. But Ruby recovered quickly and winked at Therese before saying goodnight, letting Therese head out and make her way to the train.

It felt strange, letting herself into Carol’s apartment when she knew Carol was upstairs. Was she supposed to let herself in? Or were the keys only for when Carol _wasn’t_ home? But Therese decided to not make Carol stop whatever it was she was doing to buzz her inside. 

What Carol was doing, it appeared, was drinking. Well, tasting, probably. She had three kinds of whiskey on her coffee table and was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out with her laptop on her lap. 

Therese always loved Carol in her glasses. 

Letting herself in must’ve been the right move, because Carol’s face lit up when she walked inside. “See? How convenient is that?” 

Not wanting to make Carol stand up, Therese took her shoes off and joined Carol on her rug. She took her laptop and put it to the side, making space for herself to sit with her knees on either side of Carol’s hips. “ _Very_ convenient.” Carol was still smiling when Therese kissed her. “Hi, baby.” Therese looked at Carol’s eyes, slightly glazed over. “Are you drunk?”

Holding up her thumb and pointer finger in a pinch, Carol giggled. “Maybe a little. I’m working! I swear.”

She was, Therese knew, and she explained her search for a specific whiskey, one that would work better for a cocktail one of the bartenders was trying to put on the menu. It was a good drink, but Carol thought the flavor was off because of the whiskey. So she started making the cocktail three times over for the two of them to “try.” And that eventually lead to them getting _pretty_ drunk. Carol especially so, considering her head start. 

So Tuesday morning, Therese was keeping her eyes closed for as long as possible, just listening to Carol rustle around. The only thing that made Therese want to further wake up was the ring of Carol’s phone getting a FaceTime call. The last time that had happened, it was Carol’s mom, and Therese happily snatched the phone from Carol in order to get a few minutes in with her. Hoping for an identical situation, Therese made her way out of bed, moving closer to the kitchen only to hear Jessica’s voice through the speaker. 

“Hi. Good morning. So I did something bad,” Jessica spoke quickly and before Carol could reply, she added, “but I think I can fix it.”

No longer feeling her short-lived excitement, Therese tiptoed into the kitchen archway, eyeing Carol with some type of secondhand guilt. Carol took a deep breath and shifted her jaw. “What do you mean you ‘did something bad?’”

Jessica must’ve noticed Carol’s focus shift from her screen, because she asked, “is Therese with you?”

Without time to protest (Therese wasn’t wearing actual clothing, just a blanket was covering her body), Carol tilted the phone in her direction for Jessica to see for herself. “Hi, Therese. Ugh, you two are so cute. I just can’t. How often do you - ”

In order to get the show on the road, Carol turned the screen back to herself. “Don’t change the subject. What did you do?”

Well, actually, the problem involved Therese. At the second mention of her name, Therese was all ears. Especially if it was something bad. She shouted, “yeah, what did you do, Jessica?” and Carol smirked, glad to have Therese on her side. It had been mentioned before that Jessica was a “birthday person.” She loved birthdays, particularly her own. Last year she’d been out of town and didn’t get to celebrate with all of her friends - there were a lot - and she vowed to make up for it the next year - this year - by throwing herself a huge party at her apartment. A party for which she just made a Facebook event.

“You might not know this, Carol, because you don’t have a Facebook, but when you’re invited to an event and one of your friends is invited, too, it’s usually one of the first things you can see. Well, Therese, I invited you. Obviously.” Jessica was hastened by an impatient Carol waving her arm in a circle motion, begging her to get to the point. “Basically, Gen texted me asking how I knew Therese. Not suspiciously, I think she was just curious.” 

_Ah._ Carol sighed, exasperated, and Therese eyed her with concern. 

“Anyway, I told her that Therese recently had a tattoo consultation with me? I panicked. I know it sounds weird that I would invite her to my birthday party after something like that, but…”

Eyes to the ceiling, Carol seemed to consider the information. She glanced at Therese, calmer than before, and looked back to her phone at Jessica. “No, that works. It’s going to be a huge party, right? You invite nearly every queer person you come into contact with.”

The sound of relief that emanated from Jessica made it clear she’d been genuinely nervous about the matter. Therese didn’t blame her, Carol was great to her friends, but she could be savage in the moment. The week prior, Abby had dropped by Carol’s apartment on her way to work. She needed to tell her something _in person_. Still half asleep, Carol had begged Therese to get out of bed and open the door for Abby. Therese stood in the kitchen and made coffee, only hearing whispers of the conversation coming from Carol’s bedroom. And then Carol shrieked, “fuck _off._ Get the hell out of my house. Go away, Abby!”

Startled, Therese intercepted Abby on her way out the door. She was smiling, though, and said, “that went better than I expected, really. She’s fine - just being dramatic because she enjoys it.” And gave Therese a quick hug before leaving. The news Abby had delivered was that she and Alexandra were planning to move to the suburbs - somewhere in Westchester, probably Scarsdale - hopefully by July. Alexandra wanted _another_ kid, and they’d already started the beginnings of adoption paperwork. More kids meant needing more space which meant prices too high if they remained in the city. Tessie and David had received similar earfulls when they once told Carol that Tessie was considering a job in Minneapolis, closer to their families in Denver. She hadn’t taken the job, in the end, but Carol had a soliloquy prepared about abandonment - one Jessica heard often when she spent a month or two traveling as a guest tattoo artist. 

Therese couldn’t be certain, but an arrogant part of her (a part she wasn’t all too familiar with) wondered if Carol’s newfound ability to take things in stride - relatively, at least, she still liked the occasional theatrics - had anything to do with her, remembering Martha’s words about no longer getting calls from Carol about how lonely she was all of the time. 

When Carol hung up, she looked at Therese and grinned, shaking her head and Therese just laughed. “Well, I was thinking about getting a new tattoo soon, anyway.”

Carol laughed too, and Therese was absolutely certain she’d never seen anything more beautiful: Carol, still groggy from sleep, laughing in her kitchen with disheveled hair, a barely buttoned, thin and oversized button-down the only thing covering her body. Which made Therese wonder, “has Jessica ever seen you naked?”

“Yeah, of course.” Pouring herself water, Carol’s attention snapped to Therese when Therese choked on air. “I mean, she’s my best friend. So has Tessie.” _And Abby_ , was the other, unsaid bit, but that wouldn’t be a fantastic inclusion, Therese knew. Carol smiled and narrowed her eyes, “why? Are you jealous?”

She didn’t realize she was until Carol answered her question so casually. She hated the idea of anybody other than herself ever seeing Carol the way she did. Therese barely felt deserving, forget everyone else. “Yes. No more of that. Only I get to see you naked.”

Funny, Carol pointed out, because the night before Therese had for the first time in nearly a week and failed to do anything about it. A burden that couldn’t possibly fall entirely on Therese’s shoulders, considering Carol had been the one pouring them drink after drink. Still, she vowed to make up for it, right away and all day, because they finally had all day. She was prepared to drag Carol back into the bedroom but Carol was ready to lead the way herself. 

Having sex all day might have been an alluring, though unrealistic, proposal. They fell back asleep after about an hour and when Therese awoke again, it was one in the afternoon and Carol was awake already, clicking away at her laptop. 

Attempting to close the top down, Therese muttered, “hey, no work today.”

Just this one thing, was Carol’s response. It was the schedule, always the most tedious of tasks and Therese forfeited, choosing instead to lay her head on Carol’s shoulder while she moved around names and times and days. Therese thought Carol would easily pass the logic portion of the LSATs. The schedule looked like a game out of a prep book: _Genevieve cannot work every other Tuesday and Thursday. Richard can only open on Sundays and cannot work at the same time as Mary anymore. Therese cannot work Wednesdays…_ and the list went on and Carol put it together like a very unrewarding puzzle. 

“Would you mind working six days next week?” Carol asked, clearly not thrilled to be doing so. “Otherwise I can ask…Richard.” 

Though she didn’t particularly want to work six days the following week, Therese supposed she could. She’d only been working four days for weeks and she sort of owed it to her coworkers to get back into the swing of things. Plus, she was almost done with her applications for residencies and could forgo the extra time this once if it meant helping Carol. But, Therese realized, “won’t I go into overtime?”

Bored, Carol said, “so?”

“Isn’t that bad? Didn’t you have to hire more dishwashers just to avoid it?” Therese hadn’t forgotten Colton’s recent frostiness on nights when he left the restaurant at the same time as Carol.

“It’s not the same thing. Do you want to or am I asking Richard?”

Therese would, she said, and she could see Carol holding back a grin, likely happy that it meant Therese would be working an additional day with her. “Great.”

Thus concluded the work Carol wanted to finish, though work still plagued her throughout the afternoon. They got dressed to leave Carol’s apartment for a bit - Harge called, he couldn’t find card stock for printing the menu. They went to the bookstore - Jack texted, unsure of which cabernet to serve a table of regulars coming by that evening. They were trying to just lounge around and stare at each other on Carol’s sofa when Crystal called, she was going to be late. 

“I’m not there today, Harge is and Jeanette will be soon.”

Sitting so close to Carol, Therese could hear Crystal through the phone. “I know, they didn’t pick up.”

Carol pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, well, nobody cares that you’ll be late, sweetie. But if they say something tell them I said it was fine.”

The conversation wrapped up and Carol looked at Therese, wary and rueful and frustrated. Therese put her hands on Carol’s neck and then ran them up to her jaw and cheeks and said what she’d been thinking for a long time. 

“You need a new job. You need to move on.”

There wasn’t an argument, not even a wince or a hint of surprise from Carol. She just said, “I know.”

That would be enough, for the moment. Both of them wanted to again venture outside of Carol’s apartment, deciding to go somewhere to eat instead of ordering in. They went back-and-forth with ideas, taking turns turning down options outright, or disguised as a “ _maybe..._ ” that just meant “no.” Eventually it was Therese that came up with the winning place, suggesting the restaurant where they’d gone on their first date. When she said it, it made Carol turn away from Therese, but she caught her smile before Carol could hide it completely, and say, “yes, perfect.”

Neither had been back since and truthfully, Therese really wanted, “that salad, I’ve been thinking about it periodically since we went.”

“It’s the dressing.”

Therese was glad there was an explanation, that she wasn’t going crazy over this salad for no reason, and that it wasn’t _just_ Carol that had made everything so incredible that night.

Going out to dinner meant Therese having the excuse to enjoy one of her favorite sights, which was Carol putting on makeup. At this point, Therese was sure that if Carol ever broke both of her wrists in some freak wine-opening accident, she could complete every step of Carol’s skincare and makeup routine for her. Nothing changed, except when she put on more eyeliner and eyeshadow, she kept her lip color light, and vice versa. That night, it was the latter, because Carol claimed it took less time, though that was up for debate. 

The same manager was working, the one that knew Carol, and he seated them even though they didn’t have a reservation - which Therese doubted they had the room to do - but Carol just shrugged. They did it all the time at their own work, and sure, it was a pain in the ass and made some people angry, but why not reap the benefits of it working the other way around? And sitting with Carol - inside this time, because it was 27 degrees - was a different type of pleasure. Instead of getting to know her, trying hard to get her to reluctantly talk about _her_ family and friends, Therese and Carol talked about everyday stuff, and it was still just as interesting.

There was, of course, the topic of Therese’s residency applications, which Carol brought up quickly, but Therese didn’t want to dwell on it too much. Sitting in the restaurant where Carol had first really gotten to know her didn’t make Therese all too eager to high-tail it out of New York and far away from Carol, even thought Carol seemed so relaxed about the prospect. After learning so much about Carol in the past months - and probably before learning anything about her, really - Therese knew she didn’t want to do that with anyone else. Nobody was as enchanting, as constantly challenging, as _perfect for her_ as Carol. Plus, Therese didn’t care about knowing anybody else as intimately. She just wanted Carol. 

But, the subject changed, and Carol mentioned the last time they’d both been to the restaurant, the first time they’d really “hung out.” Therese remembered talking for what seemed like an eternity about herself, about Dannie’s family and her art and her college, and that was the only thing Carol really remembered, too. 

“I’m surprised you remembered everything we ate.” Carol smirked and looked down at her drink. “I felt like such a mess. I truly don’t remember much beyond you sitting across from me and talking. I was _really_ nervous.”

Therese remembered that part well, because Carol had said it so bluntly, something Therese would’ve never been brave enough to do herself. She didn’t possess that kind of power at the time. It felt ironic, in a way, because Therese thought it took a lot of confidence for someone to admit they felt anything but. She had only recently learned how to show that kind of vulnerability. She’d been decently open with Dannie throughout the years, but Carol had a way of pulling out the thoughts and fears that lingered in the swamps of her mind, previously meant for Therese to play over late at night, only to herself. 

But now Carol knew them too, and Therese thought maybe that was why she didn’t paint those feelings anymore. She didn’t need to say things in coded language now that she could speak them out loud and share them with Carol. Even long after Therese was finished with her paintings of Carol - moments like these, when Carol sitting across from her, brows slightly furrowed as she examined the cocktail list, were inspiring enough - she’d still be in all of her art, somewhere. Hopefully always physically nearby, too. 

The ring of Carol’s phone knocked them both out of their thoughts. Therese could see Carol seething internally, ready to lose her mind. 

“How? _How?_ ” Carol mused. It was Jack. “I’m going to answer this, and then turn off my phone for the rest of the night. Maybe forever. But _how_ can they not keep it together for one evening?”

“Seems like they need you as much as I do.”

Therese smirked, and Carol rolled her eyes at the sentiment, but couldn’t help the flush that spread over her cheeks and Therese saw her try and hold back a smile before she answered the call.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read this over (well, like, the first 3/4) and to me it read like a short story, and I liked that about it, I think. Anyway, here.

It was like a mantra - the lie Therese repeated every time someone asked her which residency out of the four she’d applied to was her first choice. Gen asked this time, and “I don’t care,” came as quickly as an auto-reply from Therese’s lips. She always said she’d “just be happy if she was invited to attend just one of them.”

Truthfully, Therese _did_ have a preference. The one in New Hampshire. It was less than a four hour drive from New York City. It didn’t seem too expensive to find a livable place in Keene, plus it was a small enough town that having a car wasn’t totally necessary, according to Ruby. It was the shortest one, too - only five months. October through February. Maybe the shorter the better, Therese had thought. She was getting nervous about spending so long away from Carol. She hadn’t even secured a place in any residency yet and she was already desperately trying to plan her visits, imagining how many times - realistically - she could rent a car and drive to see Carol. Or when Carol would come to see her. 

_If_ Carol would come to see her.

Whenever Therese approached the topic, Carol brushed it off. A far cry from when she’d been grilling her about finishing and sending the applications a month prior. “I don’t care. I like driving. I sort of miss it. We’ll figure it out, Therese.” 

She wondered, too, if a longer distance would make Carol even more hesitant to discuss visiting Therese, considering her hatred for flying, so she didn’t bring it up often. Certainly not as often as she thought about it. It could’ve been that Carol was scared about the distance and time apart just like Therese, and didn’t like thinking about it, let alone talking about it. 

Carol’s commentary on Therese’s choices in residencies had, so far, been brief. She made a snoring noise when Therese told her the one in Michigan was in the suburbs, but noted that Gigi would be a good contact for help. When Carol remembered Taos was in New Mexico, she said, “we can look for UFOs.” And Oregon left Carol short-sighted. 

“I love Portland.”

Therese tilted her head. “It’s not in Portland. There are other places in Oregon, you know.”

They looked it up. Brightwood was roughly fifty-two minutes away from Portland, right at the base of Mt. Hood. Looking up Brightwood led to Carol swooning over pictures of the landscape, which led to Carol searching through photos of Seattle, which, happily, wound up becoming Carol asking Therese to come to Washington with her when she visited in July. Abandoned was talking in circles about the what-ifs of Therese’s maybe-months-long move from New York in favor of more exciting, more concrete journeys. Carol rattled off suggestions of places to take Therese around Seattle almost anxiously, as if she needed to sell Therese on the idea. Therese didn’t mind pushing aside discussions about being apart, because it might make Carol sad. It made Therese sad, no doubt, and there was no point in being sad together when they didn’t have a reason to be just yet. 

So when Gen started poking around the topic when they got lunch together before work one day - the day of Jessica’s party - Therese was short with her, a clipped tone that Gen noticed.

“Oh, sorry. Jesus. I thought you’d be super excited about this. Is everything okay?” Gen was confused, no doubt, and Therese definitely couldn’t tell her the truth. 

“It’s not that. I _am_ excited. I don’t mean, ‘I don’t care,’ like I don’t care about it. I just mean I truly don’t care where I get accepted. I really would be happy if I could go to any one.” Therese clarified again, not wanting to sound ungrateful, but she had concerns beyond just being apart from Carol, ones she could confide in Gen. “I’m a little nervous about money, to be honest. And my lease is up in July, so depending on where I go - _if_ I go - I’ll need to find a subletter from September or October until the spring.”

Gen shrugged. “Make money off a subletter.” When Therese recoiled slightly, she continued. “I’m serious. Charge more than the rent is worth. You’re giving them a furnished place, after all, and the gift of not having to endure the expenses that come with signing their own lease. I’ve done it before.”

“Maybe…” She’d think about it, though it wasn’t a horrible plan.

“You know who I think has also done something similar? Carol.” Now Therese was all ears, and she shot her gaze back up to meet Gen’s. “There was a whole thing when she broke up with her girlfriend once and neither could afford their apartment on their own. I remember because _Jessica_ actually asked if I was looking for a place at the time. I couldn’t afford it either, obviously.” 

The prospect of making some money off of her bedroom in her apartment was suddenly more credible when Gen added Carol as a source. When they left the restaurant, Gen added that Therese should at least ask Carol about whether it had been worth it or not, not realizing that Therese had already made a mental note to get all of this information from Carol. 

But not that very same day. Carol wasn’t in the mood, Therese knew. It had been a point of contention the past week - Carol taking her exhaustion over work out on Therese. It wasn’t what she said, it was how she said things, and Therese had to remind her that she was on her side. Carol’s side being the one that wasn’t interested in her taking over Harge’s position as general manager of Ma Moitié. The problem was, though, that they couldn’t quite hire somebody to take over Harge’s position once he became director of operations for all three of Chef’s restaurants - it wouldn’t make sense for Carol to have somebody over her head. So, for now, Carol felt stuck. And the week of Jessica’s birthday party had her working every single day just so she could leave by 8pm on that particular Friday. 

During work that night, when Therese had a question and couldn’t find Jeanette nor Harge, she weighed her options and decided to try her luck with Carol, despite warnings that Carol wasn’t to be bothered. Therese figured she’d make an exception. For her.

Sometimes Therese was wrong. 

She opened the door to Carol’s office and without getting a word out, Carol groaned low in frustration and said, “ _I’m not here_ ,” and then looked over at Therese. She was almost glaring, but Therese could see the fatigue that was really at the root of her problems and thus her stare. The coldness still stung, though. 

Therese clicked her tongue and began backing out of the room. “Okay…”

Carol tried again. “Look, I’m just not going to go upstairs right now. I’m only here to answer phones for awhile because our reservationist called off. Plus, I’m not exactly dressed to play manager.”

That was true. Carol’s makeup looked stunning and her ass looked fantastic in those leopard print skinny jeans, the ones Therese’s roommates _still_ asked about, but neither quite said _person partially in-change of your hundred-plus dollar per person dining experience_.

“Okay. Got it.”

There was something about Carol’s office that made Therese never able to leave on her first or second tries. 

“Wait, come here.” This time, Carol softened and held out a hand for Therese to come and take. And she did, because she couldn’t _not_ and Carol brought it up to her lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine - ”

“It’s not. I’ve been irritable all week and you haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve just had a lot on my mind. About work, about money, about us. I’m sorry.”

When Therese told her it was fine again, she meant it. Apologies and explanations like that weren’t usually offered so freely coming from Carol. But Therese stayed stuck on the last part - the “about us” part. The words made the room spin for several seconds and she had to ask, “can we talk about it?”

They could. Carol wanted to, surprisingly enough, and that almost worried Therese more. They could, but not there, at work, in Carol’s office, obviously. They could, “tomorrow?” “Tomorrow.” 

Therese cursed the timing, knowing she’d have to think about it for the rest of the night. But Carol kissed the palm of her hand before releasing it and said, “I love you,” when Therese left - actually left - her office. _About us_ still rang in Therese’s ears when Carol left for Jessica’s. She found Therese and Gen standing together and told them both she’d see them later as she hurried out of the building. 

\------

Having never been to Jessica’s apartment, Therese wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. She’d been surprised when she had found out Jessica’s seventy-person-and-counting birthday party would be taking place there, but Carol said it was big, one of the huge, converted-factory lofts that everybody who had never been to New York thought of when they thought of living in Brooklyn. Where high-schoolers imagined they’d live after seeing _Rent_ for the first time. What it lacked in creature-comforts it made up for in square-footage and large, drafty windows. Jessica had lived in the same place in Bushwick for years and Gen knew the way to her building without needing directions. It was a straight-shot on the M, and when they walked down the stairs onto Myrtle, Gen immediately saw somebody she knew who was also heading to Jessica’s.

Grateful for the interruption, Therese disengaged as they talked and used the time to think about what Carol possibly could’ve been thinking about when she thought “about us.” Therese wouldn’t have so quickly thought it was something bad had it not been included in succession with “work” and “money.” And Carol was testy all week, even with “us,” with them, with herself and Therese, on her mind. 

Suddenly, Therese was being talked to. “How do you know Jessica?”

Gen’s friend asked and Therese found it odd that Gen didn’t answer for her, considering she knew. She just looked at Therese expectantly.

“I’m getting a tattoo done by her.” Easy enough. 

“Oh, what are you getting done?”

Why Therese hadn’t thought this part through was an even better question, because it was such an obvious follow-up. She just said, “an evergreen,” probably too loudly and it was the only thing she could think to say. 

Luckily, Gen and her friends (and, by extension, Jessica’s friends) were definitely not the type to ask _why,_ to rudely demand for every tattoo to have a meaning - considering the coverage of their own bodies - and she just said, “rad.” 

\------

Friends. Jessica had _a lot_ of friends. Inside her apartment were swarms of people Therese didn’t know. She knew that among them, somewhere, was Carol, but she wasn’t sure how to navigate the situation, whether to find an excuse to slink away from Gen and go to Carol - wherever she was - or to let it happen naturally. Somehow. Hopefully sooner rather than later. First things were first, though, and Gen suggested getting a drink. As soon as humanly possible. And Therese could see why, because almost everyone was noticeably drunk.

There was a sudden part in the seas of people and at the end was a barely recognizable Carol. She was laughing and almost floating and it was the most beautiful change from the Carol of hours before. Therese almost didn’t want Carol to see her, afraid that she was apart of the stress that Carol had clearly abandoned somewhere between work and the party. Even if running and hiding had been an option, Therese still wouldn’t have escaped on time, because Carol noticed her immediately. And what was better than seeing Carol happy was seeing her happiness grow when Therese smiled at her. It was a fucking relief, too. But there was also Gen, and even hours of drinks in, Carol remembered to keep her composure and dial it down a notch. 

Abby didn’t, though. Abby grabbed Therese’s hand and yanked her into a constricting hug. But Gen said nothing, and life went on. Everything went on - as normal - for over an hour until Gen told Therese she was leaving. She had somewhere else to go that night and, just as she was ready to let Gen see herself out, ready to no longer keep Carol at arms length (almost exactly _just_ at arms length, Therese thought, not a centimeter longer), Gen said, “hey, will you come outside with me really quick?”

The wind was blowing and making it difficult for Gen to light her cigarette. She made a face of annoyance but smiled once it lit. Therese still wondered why she was out there with her if Gen was about leave anyway. But Gen stood for a moment - they both stood - in silence, enjoying the oddly warm air that late-March had brought. 

On her exhale, Gen spoke. “How long have you and Carol been a thing?”

If it was possible to go ghost white yet burn red at the same time, that must’ve been what was happening to Therese’s face. Her eyes and mouth both dry as she searched for something, _quickly, god, anything_ , to say. Gen’s narrowed her gaze but not there was no malice to it - she didn’t look angry, she looked something else. Maybe she didn’t know for sure.

“What?” It was all Therese could think of. And Gen didn’t buy it if the rolling eyes were any indication. 

“Therese. Stop. I know.” Gen took another drag of her cigarette. “I kind of thought you liked her or something, around Christmas. You got all riled up when she was talking to Harge’s wife. And you happen to know all of Carol’s closest friends. Abby Gerhard? That straight girl and her husband? I mean...”

No, Gen didn’t seemed mad. She seemed distant, no longer looking at Therese but off down the street. 

Therese still didn’t know quite what to say. Even though she knew the answer, she asked, “are you mad?”

And it _wasn’t_ the right thing to say. Gen scoffed, and looked at Therese incredulously. “Am I _mad?_ ” Her forced laughter was barely audible and Therese wished she had taken up Gen’s offer for a cigarette, wanting anything to focus on other than her growing anxiety. “Mad about what? I’m…confused, I guess. You didn’t tell me.”

For some reason, Therese still thought lying, or fibbing maybe, was the right route to take. “I didn’t because I didn’t want to upset you. I thought you liked me and - ”

Gen coughed, choked on too deep of an inhale, interrupting and surprised. “You didn’t tell me because you thought _I liked you?_ That’s…was there a time when I sort of wanted to sleep with you when you started at work? Yeah, you’re hot. But then we were friends. Good friends, I thought. But maybe that’s not the case.”

And _oh_ had Therese misread the situation. And that look - the one that wasn’t anger - coming from Gen was a little distant, because she was hurt. Gen had always included her, invited her out and to parties, told Therese about upcoming events that she’d thought she would enjoy, they exchanged Christmas presents, Gen told her things about her own work - her writing - and was interested in Therese’s art, they shared stories about their respective families (and lack thereof). Gen _was_ a good friend, even if sometimes - often - crass in her behavior at work. That was just apart of her personality, for better or worse, and it was never, ever directed toward Therese. She wasn’t mad; she was sad, probably wondering if she even had a friend in Therese, at all. 

There had been a long enough silence, and Gen tried to fill it, just muttering, “I just thought you’d tell me if something, like, big like that was going on in your life.”

She should. She would, now, without trying to lie. “Since, like, end of September.”

It hurt more, Therese was sure, because it was clear from Gen’s expression that it had far exceeded her estimations. Gen only said, _“oh.”_

“Can I be totally honest with you?” Therese asked, and prayed Gen would believe her.

“Please do. Yes.” It stung a bit, but at least Gen was willing to listen. 

Sighing, Therese just explained her fears. The truth to keeping things from Gen was the worry that Gen - or a number of their coworkers, but Gen specifically - would use it against Carol, would think Carol was favoring Therese when she came down hard on Gen. And though it seemed brutal, and immature maybe, Gen looked a little guilty herself. 

“I know I’m combative with Carol, sometimes. But I don’t care if you guys are dating.” She sucked on the very last bits of her cigarette and put it out on the brick of the building before continuing. Therese thought that this time, _not caring_ sounded like a relief. “And I don’t want Carol to lose her job. I think she’s great at what she does. And women are too few and far between in the wine industry - that much I know. Besides, she obviously doesn’t want me to lose my job, either, or else I’d definitely have been fired by now.”

Gen smirked and Therese laughed a little at her honesty. She was self-aware, if anything. The air didn’t feel completely clear, it would take time. But Gen really was trying to leave, having somewhere else to be. Her stamina was always amazing - Therese was sure she’d be out until the sun came up. Before Gen walked away, Therese caught her wrist. 

“Wait, I do need to tell you that you can’t say anything - ”

Snorting, Gen replied, “Yeah, I figured.”

“I’m serious. Only Dannie knows.” Therese definitely caught the ghost, _the suggestion_ , of a smile making its way onto Gen’s lips, but she was as good at hiding her feelings as Carol could be, so it didn’t fully blossom. “And Harge.” 

Then Gen frowned, and flew her arms to the sides. _“Harge?”_

It was a funny sort of disbelief. Mock offense. Because why in the world would Harge get to know? And if he did, what was all the hiding about? Therese explained that it was all apart of a sort of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell thing. Or, at least, Harge didn’t want anyone asking him nor anyone - _besides Carol_ \- telling him. She didn’t know for certain, but was pretty sure Carol told Harge _a lot._ More than she let on, anyway. Gen asked if Therese was going to tell Carol about their “little conversation.”

“I will. But tomorrow.” Therese rolled her eyes to the building, where the party was happening, and Gen nodded knowingly. “I think she’s really high right now. And drunk.”

Walking off, Gen shouted back. “Yeah, if you haven’t noticed, Carol and her friends get _lit._ ” 

Therese had noticed, months ago, when she first went to Carol’s apartment months and months ago the day after her birthday, finding Carol and Jessica and Tessie beyond hungover. It was a memory she’d thought to share with Gen, because it was indulgent yet light, and something Gen would appreciate. 

Stepping back into the party, through a chorus of chatter that buzzed like white noise, Therese heard the unmistakable timbre of Abby’s voice from across the room, yelling at Therese that she’d been gone for _hours_. It had been, at most, fifteen minutes. Wading through people, mostly strangers, Therese made her way to Abby knowing Carol wouldn’t be far off. She hadn’t moved too much in the course of the time Therese had stepped out. She sat on the kitchen center island, talking to a girl with pink long hair and roughly twenty visible piercings. Therese recognized that look in the pink-haired girls eyes, and she felt proudly territorial seeing it. When Therese was in Carol’s peripheral, she instantly caught her attention. 

Carol snapped her head to her left and smiled seeing Therese, leaving her new friend without an audience for the end of her sentence. “Hi, baby.” Carol’s eyes were glassy and unfocused and happy. “Where were you?”

“I was outside talking to Gen, remember?”

Clearly not, because Carol asked, “where’s Gen?” 

“She left. That’s why we were outside,” Therese told Carol and she just stared.

The girl with the pink hair made use of the silence, introduced herself as Nikki, and then left them alone - defeated by Therese’s presence, her _being_ , really - telling Carol it was nice seeing her again. Carol waved happily, oblivious, apparently, and called out, “bye!” Therese tried to convince Carol that Nikki seemed to be hitting on her - even Abby overheard and said “she was, yeah,” - but Carol waved it off. “I didn’t even realize we’d met before.”

Without Gen to worry about and no longer preoccupied by the idea of Carol being stressed out by her, Therese decided to let herself play catch up to however much Carol and her friends had drank and took the shot offered to her by Alexandra, who said, “I never come to these things, so you have to take it,” as a means of persuasion. She drank a vodka soda and then another and felt Carol’s hands on her waist from behind, pulling on her to lean back against her. She whispered, “I like it when you touch me like that in public,” and Carol barely let her go the rest of the night.

\------

Waking up at Carol’s with her blackout curtains drawn, staring up at the ceiling fan, Therese almost panicked. It took her a few minutes to remember getting there. They’d stayed there late - or early - and somehow helped Jessica bag up bottles and cans for recycling, Tessie got their cab, she’d been insistent, for whatever reason, and they’d made it back to Carol’s before the sun came up. Therese pulled at her eyelashes to check for mascara - she’d taken her makeup off, a habit courtesy of Carol. 

Groaning and shuffling next to her was Carol. Therese felt her burrow further beneath the sheets and into her side by her ribcage. Part of her didn’t want to wake Carol - but it was past noon and Therese had things to tell her and questions to ask. 

The Gen thing - her knowing - would have to be softened, but it had to happen before work. Unsure if bringing up what Carol had said in her office the night before would be an easier or harder subject, Therese went a different route. “Do you think it’s okay for me to make money off of my subletter while I’m gone?”

“ _That’s_ what you’re thinking about?” Carol muttered into Therese’s side, one eye blinking open. “You have so much time to decide.”

But she didn’t. Not really. It didn’t feel like a lot of time. Therese’s lease had to be re-signed by June and she’d have to start looking for a subletter before August. If she was going anywhere, of course. In any case, it didn’t feel like much time.

“Or,” Carol started, still hidden by Therese’s side, “you could not re-sign your lease and not have to worry about it.”

“I need a place to live, Carol.”

Sighing, Carol’s face finally showed itself and she laid her chin on Therese’s chest. “Right. You could live here. With me.”

Of course that was what Carol was getting at, because she was never one to turn grand gestures into _grand gestures_. Therese saw it as Carol’s way of protecting herself, from embarrassment, from heartbreak, from let down. Therese grinned, realizing that the _about us_ Carol had been concerning herself with must’ve involved this exact conversation, one Therese had helped her walk right into. 

There was more. “ _My_ lease is up in October.”

Confused, Therese asked, “why does that matter?”

“I need a change, Therese. Badly.” Carol wasn’t looking at Therese anymore, but at the window, where there was nothing but thick curtains. “I’ve put in my time here, into Ma Moitié, into five other places, into New York. Not to be too full of myself, but I could get a great job in half a second in Portland or Detroit and probably could be more choosy about it, too.”

Somehow, even from whatever cloud Therese was lying on, just looking down at herself as she died the happiest person on earth, she managed to get out, “what about New Mexico?”

Carol was pretty sure Taos had restaurants, too. Besides, it wasn’t just an art hub. Rich people loved skiing there. And rich people loved wine, as they both knew. And New Hampshire?

“Well, okay. I still have my job here. And I’ll visit you all the time.”

“What if I don’t get into any of the residencies?”

There were answers to everything, because Carol had clearly been _thinking_. If Therese didn’t get into a residency, simple: they stay, maybe move into a different apartment. If they moved and didn’t like it, they’d move back when her residency was over. For the time being, Carol would stay in her position and coast for as long as possible. “Maybe I’ll take Harge’s job so I can have it on my resumé and then quit.”

This was bliss, Therese was sure. Sure, though she’d never felt it before - not this much, not so totally consuming and calming. But now she truly didn’t care where she wound up come fall, because Carol would either be there, with her, or be in New York waiting for her and visiting her and it wouldn’t be because Therese asked her or begged her (and in her mind, she had been more than ready to beg), but because Carol _wanted_ to come with her for reasons beyond following Therese. She was simultaneously the most euphoric and the most hungover she’d ever been, and wondered if Carol felt the same. In any case, telling Carol about what transpired with Gen during the party could wait just a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d been planning that conversation between Gen and Therese since probably the first chapter of this story. So, nice things only. 
> 
> TWO CHAPTERS LEFT!


	26. Chapter 26

Plenty of jokes were made about Therese’s birthday. Birth _date_ , really. April 20th. 420. Every year since she was a preteen. She got it, people smoke weed. _So funny_. Even when Carol had initially found out, her eyes lit up and she remarked that she’d at least never forget it. 

But this year, her birthday fell on a Saturday and that particular Saturday was the day that Harge had planned an all-staff meeting. Carol stressed that it was Harge’s idea, not her own. Carol had specifically said she thought that “all-staff” meetings put people on edge, like they were being scolded, regardless of the information communicated. But Harge had insisted, eager to talk to everyone at once and not waste time sitting down with servers, and then bussers, and then hosts, and so on and so forth. But Carol still had to send out the message to tell the staff. By the amount of notifications Carol’s phone received immediately after she’d sent the memo, everyone was _thrilled_ to have their Saturday afternoon taken hostage. 

Not that Therese had planned to do too much on the actual day of her birthday to begin with. She was an adult, she knew working on her birthday was sometimes unavoidable. Especially with the money Saturday nights brought that she had no intention of missing out on. Besides, Carol would be at work and so would Dannie and Gen. Her other friends usually worked on weekends, too, so taking the night off would’ve likely involved sitting at home on her own. 

The Tuesday before, Carol had more than fulfilled her girlfriend duties. She’d let Therese sleep in and then made her breakfast before taking her to The Whitney to see the “Painting Color in the 1960s” exhibit. It shouldn’t have surprised Therese still, but when she talked, Carol _listened_ , because that exhibit had been something she’d mentioned in passing weeks before, commenting that she wanted to see it but was always bad about taking herself to major museums in favor of local galleries and shows. They went shopping and Carol bought Therese three new pairs of shoes, because she knew Therese would always shell out money for expensive art supplies, but rarely for other things she needed. Carol took her to dinner in Bed-Stuy and then to a screening of Blue Velvet. There was a standing offer for Therese to go out with her friends, too, that they could change course at any point and nix the plans Carol had made. 

Obviously, there was no world in which Therese wanted that. 

Several bright spots dotted the otherwise uneventful few days leading up to her birthday. She’d received an email on Thursday night letting her know she’d been accepted into an art show happening in June. A card came for her in the mail - not unusual, it was her birthday, after all, but the return address was Carol’s mother. If she didn’t get any other piece mail that week, she’d still call it a win. And it wasn’t only a birthday card, but included inside was printed out flight information - she’d bought Therese’s plane ticket to Seattle in July. 

Beside herself, Therese called Carol. 

“Your mom bought me my plane ticket.”

“Are you calling to tell me? Because I know.” She laughed and Therese heard the click of her keyboard through the phone. She was working. “It’s not like we’re on different flights. I was going to buy it for you but she wanted to do it. It’s more of a gesture.”

Gesture, indeed. Therese loved it. She took it and ran with it. And she basked in the excuse to get Martha’s phone number so she could text her and thank her personally. 

Carol made use of every minute available to them on Saturday to keep overwhelming Therese with attention. They woke up and had sex in the shower until Therese had to kick Carol out of her own bathroom because she _needed_ to wash her hair and Carol was being less-than-helpful to the process. On the way to brunch, to the same place they’d gone after Therese had spent the night at Carol’s for the first time, Carol could hardly keep her hands off of Therese. She couldn’t at the restaurant, either, and they sat at the counter again because Carol wanted to sit next to her and not across from her. 

She said Therese’s birthday was her favorite day - much better than her own birthday - because it was when her favorite person was born. Enjoying Carol’s affection too much, Therese bit her tongue even though she wanted badly to point out that she shared a birthday with some less-than-stellar company, to put it mildly.

The way Carol looked at her while they stood together on the train to get to the restaurant made Therese squirm and smile and she felt herself blushing when she asked, “what?”

Carol tugged on a whisp of her hair. “Nothing. I just love you so much.”

Therese hated not being able to hold her hand on the way into work.

Seeing everyone who worked at the restaurant gathered together at one time was a swift reminder to just how big Carol’s and Harge’s and Jeanette’s and chef Michael’s respective jobs were. The holiday party had included most of the staff, but Therese had figured the addition of some non-employees added bulk. But the truth was, a lot of people worked at the restaurant, they were just never in the same room at once. Fitting them in to the dining room in a way where everybody could see and hear Chef and the managers standing by the bar was a challenge. 

Dannie took the spot across from Therese at the table she’d sat down at. He leaned over and whispered, “what’s this about?”

He rightly assumed she’d been clued-in. She wasn’t sure why he was whispering, though. The meeting hadn’t started yet and there was plenty of noise from people shuffling and scooting to find seats. 

It was about, as everyone would’ve soon found out, personele changes with the new restaurant opening over the summer, and keeping a good attitude about it all. There was a little monologue from Harge, about being over the negativity, and Carol chimed in, adding that she was tired of hearing about, “not wanting to be here,” especially from servers and bartenders. It came with an asterisk, though. 

“For servers: I know everyone has been working more hours and going into overtime, but once all of your schedules are back to normal - no more time-off, no more limited availability - it’ll be better. Just push through so we don’t need to hire anyone else and become _over_ staffed later.”

At the mention of overtime, there were grumbles and murmurs. Overtime had been a more sensitive topic than Therese realized, and not for the servers. Sure, they felt overworked and spread thin, but the hosts and bussers and dishwashers were upset that they _didn’t_ get to work overtime like they apparently once had, having hired new team members just to avoid it. It didn’t seem fair, but Carol had once told Therese that it was different, and she took her word for it. But now there was audible resentment, and Harge had to ask, “okay, what’s the issue guys?”

It took a second for one of the bussers to speak up. “It’s just that I’ve had my hours cut from over forty-seven a week to thirty-five because we brought on another busser to keep all of us from hitting overtime. I mean, no offense - I like Marcus. But you’re okay with the servers working overtime? Why is it different for them?”

Harge had an answer prepared. Locked and loaded. He seemed to expect the question. But his reply was struck down before it even left his mouth because somebody else decided to respond instead. 

“Because that’s what happens when the person who makes the schedule is _fucking_ one of the servers.”

Silence really could be deafening, and Therese couldn’t tell just how long it took her to break the stare she’d held at the floor. Carol looked frozen - bright red and terrified, completely unable to speak. 

“Mind your own fucking business, Colton.” It was Gen who took over, which added to the confusion, because half of the room suddenly wondered if Carol was sleeping with Gen given the influx of brand new information. Even Jeanette whispered, “what is going on?”

And of course, Colton clarified that, no, it wasn’t Gen, it was Therese. He went on, too, as if what he was saying wasn’t entirely inappropriate regardless of accusations. He said that the servers were held to different standards because _Therese_ was a server and why wouldn’t Carol play favorites? He added that it had been going on since she’d started working at Ma Moitié, “maybe longer. Maybe that’s why she was hired in the first place. Wouldn’t be surprised.”

The meeting was left in the hands of Jeanette when Carol abruptly left for her office - bolted as quickly as her feet would let her - and Harge called for Colton to follow him to his own. Therese knew she couldn’t leave - she wasn’t sure if she could even physically handle moving - but every eye in the room watched her, even as Jeanette tried to finish reading the notes they’d prepared. “If anybody is still wondering, the reason servers can work overtime is because we don’t pay them nearly as much hourly. It costs us very little to give them time-and-a-half pay.”

The busser who had initially asked the question shrugged, seemingly in understanding of the explanation. He said, too, that he’d never thought Carol was giving preferential treatment because of “anything like that,” and Therese just about died when he pointed toward her when referencing _that_. It was coming from a place of good intentions, though. Jeanette just nodded, still somewhat in the dark, and thanked everyone for showing up. 

Therese knew she still had to work, someway, somehow, and did her best to go through the motions of setting up for service. 

“I didn’t realize Colton was such a dick,” Dannie said. He wasn’t, though, he was just young and immature and angry at the wrong person. “How did he even know?”

That wasn’t hard to figure out. “He’s here when I come back to meet Carol when she’s closing. He’s the last person left besides her, usually.” He had been from the first time Therese had come to the restaurant after hours, back before she was dating Carol, back when she had been thankful that she’d forgotten her bag at work and had an excuse to come back for it, come back for Carol. Therese didn’t think that even Carol had considered how blatantly obvious they were to Colton, or perhaps she did, but she liked Colton. It was why she scheduled him as the closing dishwasher on nights that she closed. He was good at his job and a nice kid, or he was supposed to be.

After polishing the same glass for the third or fourth time in a row, Gen appeared and took it out of Therese’s hand and placed it on the table. “Hey,” Therese couldn’t remember a time when she’d heard Gen take such a gentle tone. “It’ll be fine.”

\------

The noise from the shifting floorboards above her office was loud and abrupt - the clear marker that the meeting had ended and everyone scattered. Carol had spent exactly sixteen minutes in her office wondering what the fuck she was supposed to be doing. She’d done nothing wrong. Not really. Colton was wrong about his implications of favoritism, though very correct otherwise. That was the type of complaint Harge had warned her about, what he’d made her promise he wouldn’t have to deal with. It didn’t matter that it was unfounded, it had happened. 

When there was finally a knock at her door, Carol decided it would be like ripping off a bandaid. She couldn’t sit in her office forever, but thankfully confrontation was being brought to her, saving her from having to seek it out and address the matter. 

Harge wasn’t alone, he was with Jeanette and chef Michael and Carol didn’t have words just yet - she wasn’t going to apologize. 

Leaning against Carol’s desk, letting the other two take the two free chairs while Carol sat on a stack of wine crates, Harge sighed and began. “So, unfortunately we’re down a dishwasher. Let’s try and rectify that as soon as possible.”

Already things had taken an unexpected turn (after a series of unexpected turns). “Wait, why?”

Chef and Harge laughed. They fired Colton, of course. Not because of the content of his outburst, but because they weren’t going to allow an employee to act that disrespectfully in such a public way and not take action. Chef said it didn’t set a good precedent. 

“But,” Jeanette straightened her back and looked at Carol head-on, needing clarity from her. “Is this true? Are you and Therese…?” She trailed off, leaving the vulgarity to be filled-in mentally. 

“No, Therese and I aren’t _fucking_.” Feeling suddenly like she might cry, Carol blinked quickly and took a deep breath. “We’re together. Therese and I are together. It’s not some casual thing.”

Apologizing to chef, Carol admitted that she never said anything because she was afraid of ruining it, or ruining her job. It hadn’t ever affected her decision making or her performance, she didn’t think. Chef was hard to read, always stone-faced when he listened and nothing was different now. He just nodded and looked at both Jeanette and Harge. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t want you to be general manager of this restaurant when Harge leaves.” 

Even though Carol didn’t want the job, it still felt like a slap in the face. She wanted _to be wanted_ for the position. 

Before Carol could burst into tears, Chef saved her. “Carol, don’t look at me like that. I don’t want you doing it because I know you don’t want the job. And your talent is wasted if I give it to you. I never thought I’d be competing for the spotlight in my own fucking restaurant with my thirty-four year-old somm, yet here we are. I want you to create the beverage program for the new restaurant, get your name in there and help us open, and then I want you to get out of my life and do something you love.”

Somehow, she held it together. Maybe she was shocked into silence, swallowing forcefully the tears that had been a threat for the past half an hour. Harge smiled like he’d known this was the plan all along. And maybe he had known. Carol felt sheepish, like a child who gets upset only to be proved that there was nothing to fear in the first place, left feeling foolish while everyone looked on. 

When they left her office, Carol wanted to tell Therese. It was all she could think about doing. But she knew that running to Therese immediately - or really pulling her aside at any point during the night - wasn’t the best look, so she resigned herself to hold it in until later, until after Therese went out with her friends after work that night. 

\------

Therese didn’t think that Carol _seemed_ anxious, but Carol was also an expert at masking her anxiety when the moment called for it. She felt herself staring, watching Carol move around the restaurant, more than she usually did. Carol was smiley when she came up to a table of regulars, chatting while she decanted their wine. Carol fought with the expeditor, nothing new there. She went behind the bar and helped them make cocktails when drink tickets got backed up. She seemed normal. And Therese wasn’t sure how to feel about that. 

Her chance to find out when she went to give Carol her check-out at the end of the night was foiled. As soon as she walked into Carol’s office, Richard barged in behind her, also ready to leave. He opened the door, grinned, apologized profusely and was about to turn around, but Carol stopped him. 

“Jesus. Richard! Get back here, it’s fine. Give me your stuff.” When he came back, Carol told Therese, “just go, hang out with your friends. I’ll meet you in a couple of hours. We’ll talk later but I promise it’s okay.”

A drink would be nice after the day she’d had, so Therese reluctantly agreed and left with Dannie to meet Phil and her old roommate Gavin. He asked if she wanted to talk about it but Therese really, _really_ didn’t. Not with so much uncertainty still looming. She wanted to think about anything else. 

So the conversation turned first to gossip about their old friends from art school - one girl that they hadn’t talked to in awhile was getting into sculpture and _terrible_ at it. “I feel bad but she’s just fucking _bad_.” Therese was discussing her residency applications - for what felt like the millionth time - when Gen joined. She still thought Therese had made a mistake applying to the one in New Hampshire, “it’s just hella boring.” Gen bought all of their drinks and Therese had almost successfully calmed down when Carol texted around 2am. She wanted to know where they were so she could meet them. But Therese didn’t feel like sharing Carol’s presence and called it a night with her friends while she waited for Carol to walk over. 

The April air was damp even though it hadn’t rained in days. There seemed to be some irony in Therese waiting for Carol to meet her out after she was done with work, instead of Therese coming back to the restaurant to meet Carol. Maybe if they’d operated that way all along, Colton wouldn’t have found out. Now they were doing it on the first day that it didn’t matter anymore, because everybody knew. 

When Carol entered her line of vision, she slowed her pace and Therese took a second to take in the sight. It’d be worth it, at least she thought so, if everything came crashing down around them. Carol wore a fitted leather racer style jacket with zippers at the wrist that Therese could never help fidgeting with. Zipping and unzipping as she stood across from Carol that morning on the train into Manhattan. 

Carol stopped in front of her on the sidewalk, not saying anything, but allowing Therese to wrap her arms around her waist run her hands up and down over her back, beneath her jacket. She felt Carol’s head on her shoulder and then shaking, and she assumed Carol was crying. But she pulled back to find something else entirely: Carol laughing, first lightly and then hard. Almost uncontrollably. Therese thought Carol had finally lost her mind, but it had her laughing too. 

She wasn’t sure why they were laughing, but for Therese, seeing Carol so obscenely delighted, euphoric almost, was reason enough. She hadn’t ever witnessed Carol like that, laughing as though she might never be able to stop - the kind that made her lean back and close her eyes and clutch at her chest. Through her own cackles, Therese managed to get out, “Carol, what is happening?”

There wasn’t an answer right away. Not one that Carol could get out properly. She just kept repeating, “sorry,” and waving her hands when she tried and failed to catch her breath. Through bouts of giggles, she said that “fucking Colton,” had maybe just done her the biggest favor ever. Because when were they going to ever stop sneaking around? And now she _couldn’t_ be the general manager - not that Chef even wanted her to be (she’d explain later).

Wiping the makeup that had collected under her eyes, Carol let out a loud exhale, trying to ground herself. “This weight that’s just been sitting on my chest and in my head - in every part of my body - it’s like it’s completely vanished. Thrown off of me.”

Therese still didn’t know just what had happened between Carol and Chef and the other managers once she had fled, but it didn’t matter, because Carol was practically floating and the only thing left to do was kiss her - kiss her on the street only two and a half blocks from work. And she did over and over and Carol giggled again when Therese bit down on her lip and ran her tongue over the spot. She’d never felt more secure, like her future with Carol was concrete and real and unshakable, than that moment standing outside of a bar nearby work on Sixth Avenue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be long and might take a bit longer to get to you. This is your time for questions and comments because the last chapter I expect your unwavering praise! As always, I love your comments and feedback. I live for it. Die for it. 
> 
> Also, I’ve got a new story. I think it’ll be good so...
> 
> I know the popular social media to post on here is tumblr (because it’s 2010?!) but I don’t have one, but my Instagram is laurareneeherb, and you’re welcome to follow me. It’s not exciting though.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True to form, this comes to you with almost no re-reading.

Moving was such a deceitfully short word for such a painful process. Not emotionally. Though Therese counted on being homesick eventually, she was ready to leave New York and immerse herself in her art full-time. It was more of the physical aspect of moving that made Therese question just how worthwhile it would be. It was only two months prior that Therese had schlepped all of her belongings into Carol’s apartment, with Carol pointing to random bits and pieces along the way, saying, “sell that,” or “get rid of it,” because certain things either wouldn’t fit or it was something she already owned. 

Therese had an oddly hard to parting ways with her bedframe, being one of the only things she’d hung onto throughout the years. 

Covered in a sheet of sweat and exasperation, Gen sighed. “It’s a bedframe, don’t be like this. My aunt holds attachments to random things and guess what? Hoarder central. Carol is right.”

 _Friendship_ would have been a stretch for naming whatever newfound common ground Gen and Carol had come upon, but it was something. Suddenly Gen was included every so often in dinner plans or when they went out, especially when Jessica was involved. 

“Yes, but it’s _my_ bedframe. It’s been through a lot.”

Therese hadn’t meant to imply anything beyond all the years it had been with her, but Carol only doubled down on her insistence. _“Get. Rid of it.”_

The self-proclaimed King of Craigslist Sales, Dannie, made it happen within the day. 

Almost exactly two months to that day, Therese was in a similar situation. But the heat was now August heat and it happened later in the afternoon and missing was Carol, though Gen was there again to help. She’d been extra grateful to Therese for convincing Jasmine and Lauren to look no further for a new roommate and was a constant source of helpfulness throughout the summer. 

They sat on the floor, wrapping up dishes and glasses in newsprint paper. With only a few more days left in the city, Therese figured she could get away with packing up the last of the essentials. Though she had to stress that “a _couple_ disposable plates won’t kill the planet.”

Picking up a mug with carefully painted stick-figures and something that resembled a car, Gen asked, “are you nervous to have to drive every day?”

She had been, but then Carol let her drive a few times when they visited her parents in Seattle and Therese remembered how much she’d loved it. It wasn’t something she could do until she turned eighteen - getting a license while in foster care a near impossibility - and though it seemed relatively pointless given her inevitable move to New York City a half a year later, she craved the normalcy and feeling of freedom that came with driving. So she got her permit, learned - _fast_ \- and then drove her friends’ cars around whenever they allowed her to. In Seattle, Carol had kept her forehead in her hand almost every minute Therese was behind the wheel, but she admitted that she was just a terrible backseat driver and that Therese’s driving was more than acceptable. 

The claims of Carol being an overly critical passenger had been confirmed even before Therese had set foot behind the wheel. Carol’s mom picked them up from the airport and made Carol sit in the backseat, in part to be a good host to Therese but also to stave off “hearing it” from her. It only kind of worked.

Their trip had been broken up into two parts: staying with Carol’s parents at their home in Issaquah and staying in a hotel in downtown Seattle, because Carol couldn’t stomach having sex in her childhood home but refused to not have sex for more than four nights. 

Watching Carol move so confidently through a space that was entirely unfamiliar to Therese was a strange experience, though Therese wasn’t sure why. She supposed it was because she felt she knew every part of Carol - she had _worked_ to learn every part - every place she went to in New York, all of her friends (and Jesus, if their was another ex-girlfriend they’d have to cross paths with, Therese might lose her mind), her work, her apartment. Carol was opening a door to an entirely other life, one that was separate from Therese. It was revealing and fascinating. In June, Therese and Carol had taken a day-trip to New Jersey - they had a rare day-off and Carol wanted to do something completely removed from their everyday lives. Feeling nostalgic, Therese suggested they visit the last place she’d lived in New Jersey. It had a quaint downtown, though the home she’d lived in hadn’t been quite as charming. So they went, and Therese navigated them around main street (the only street, really), to the high school she went to her senior year (even in the summer, they had to go through a metal detector, sign themselves in, and have their bags checked), and through the parks and trails that surrounded the town. Carol had been unusually quiet that day, and it was only in Carol’s hometown that Therese understood why. It was weird, not especially pleasant nor unpleasant, to consider each others’ respective lives before meeting, way before. 

She shrugged as Gen examined the mug she was holding further. “I’m not too nervous. I don’t mind driving.”

Each time Therese received a rejection letter from a residency, Carol annoyingly considered the upsides. She’d never been sold on Taos, it was too remote. When Therese didn’t get into the residency in Michigan, she told Carol she was bummed because it seemed most affordable. 

“Not really.” 

Carol’s reply caused Therese to bite back a bit, sick of not being able to just _be disappointed_ for a minute. “Can you stop? I’m upset and it feels like you want me to not be.”

Of course, Carol apologized, quickly realizing how her words came across. And she let Therese wallow for the rest of the day and didn’t say another word until Therese finally decided that she hadn’t wanted to go anywhere near the midwest anyway. 

After a long pause, Carol quietly added, “it wouldn’t have been more affordable because we would’ve needed two cars.”

It was obnoxious that she needed to be right, and even more so that she often was. 

On the same day in the middle of June, Therese received one last rejection and, finally, one acceptance. Dannie told her that it was probably for the best, not having options, because it often led to second guessing. 

When Therese and Gen sealed what felt like their millionth box of the day, Gen asked, “okay, where is Dannie? He was supposed to help us.”

\-------

With just a little begging and the promise of one hundred dollars in cash, Carol managed to convince Dannie to help her and Jack unpack boxes upon boxes of bottles at the new restaurant. She had taken up Chef’s offer to create the beverage program at the new place, and she’d spent the summer overseeing both restaurants, with the option to stay on at one or the other permanently, or leave whenever - with adequate notice, of course. When she’d started in May, she was honest about not knowing what she was going to do, given that Therese was unsure, as well. 

Chef was surprised, but happy, having not realized just how serious of a relationship they were in. Harge wasn’t surprised in the slightest. 

After a few hours of unpacking and sorting and storing, Carol figured that Dannie had more than earned his hundred dollars, but didn’t let him go right away. Instead, she made him run an errand with her that was, admittedly, the only real reason she’d wanted his help in the first place. 

After about fifteen minutes of walking through Soho - a walk that Dannie didn’t question, and Carol wondered what kind of person could be so comfortable being blindly led like that - they stood at a glass counter and Dannie couldn’t help himself from saying, “Carol, I had no idea you felt this way about me. I’m flattered.”

“Very funny.” Carol rolled her eyes and wanted Dannie to stop staring and her and grinning. “Well? Do you want to see it or was my dragging you here a complete waste of time?”

Not that anything Dannie said would change things, she just sought validation and he’d proven himself trustworthy. 

In a voice more serious, but also more gentle than before, Dannie said that _yes,_ he was _dying_ to see it, and managed to take the box from Carol’s grasp. He took his job seriously, which Carol appreciated, and inspected and gazed long enough until he told her, “this is absolutely fucking perfect.”

Carol thought so, _hoped_ so. It couldn’t not be. “You think?”

“I _know._ She’ll love this. Especially because she isn’t big on diamonds.”

As if Carol didn’t know that. That was why Carol asked for a parti-sapphire to be in the center with two diamonds at the sides. If she was going to get a custom-designed ring, she was going to have it done right. 

Unsurprisingly, Dannie had questions. Questions like _when_ she was going to do it. Carol didn’t know, but not until after the new year, she decided. 

“Won’t it be hard waiting that long?”

“Considering I’ve been biting my tongue since the day we met, what’s a few more months?”

Feeling her face start to flush, Carol thought it better not to meet Dannie’s eyes. She could still feel his smile permeating into the side of her face. When asked how she planned to do it, she again didn’t have answers. Carol was good at planning, but this was new territory. 

“I thought I’d just toss it at her one day and say, ‘want this?’” Carol was kidding. Sort of. She really hadn’t thought of anything yet, the idea seeming too big to comprehend.

“You know she’s going to say ‘yes,’ right?” Dannie asked, and Carol still couldn’t look his way, focusing instead on the engagement ring on the counter in front of her.

It had been ready for Carol to take home for nearly a month, but she’d had the jewelry shop hang onto it for her, thinking it for the best. And introduced was Dannie’s second and by far most important job of the day - and for another two months. Carol needed him to hold onto the ring. When Therese had moved into her apartment in June, Carol had discovered that she liked to snoop through her things. Apparently, Therese had known for months about the collection of items she kept in her bedside drawer - various tokens that reminded her of Therese. Not keen on having a similar situation happen with _this,_ she convinced Dannie that he was the perfect person to hang onto it until he came to visit them in Portland in the fall. 

\------

“What are these things?” Tasked with packing what seemed like just glass tray with useless trinkets, Gen held up a wine cork to Therese until she appeared to answer her own question. “Oh. This is too cute. Are these little weird things that are, like, meaningful to you and Carol? I used to keep a scrapbook of stuff like this with my ex. Wound up burning it.”

Originally, they were just Carol’s collection, with one single addition made by Therese in secret. It took until Therese moved into Carol’s apartment for her to notice. She found Carol sitting on her bed one night, bathed in just the lights from the building next door, staring down at a little scrap of paper that said _you’re the best_ in her own handwriting. After a minute or so, Therese said her name, beckoning Carol to look her way. Afraid Carol was upset that she hadn’t told her that she found her stuff, Therese started to apologize, but Carol cut her off. 

“I was so sad when I wrote this.” She sighed and it was shaky and a little concerning. “The day of that stupid holiday party, Harge made me go out and get all of these gift cards. And you were _very_ mad at me and I thought you were going to break up with me. And I remember sitting in my office - crying, as always - and writing this to slip into the card holder, figuring it wouldn’t mean anything and that you’d probably throw it away, but even if you never wanted anything to do with me again, I just wanted you to know how great you are. As if this would do it.”

Therese could hear a laugh die in Carol’s throat when she looked at her, smiling sadly, and she swallowed heavily. That little note - it _did_ do it. It made Therese feel special, it reminded her of just how special Carol made her feel. Of course she had saved it. Seeing Carol hold it so lazily and carelessly was nerve racking, and Therese pulled it from her fingers and put it back into the box in the bedside drawer. She couldn’t stand seeing Carol drag up that old, should-be-dead feeling and sit with it. Therese was there, in front of her, and she’d never intended on leaving. They were both exhausted from moving Therese’s things and unpacking, so Therese made Carol lay down next to her on her bed - well, _their_ bed, she supposed - and kissed her face and played with her hair until they both fell asleep in their clothes on top of the bedspread. Days after, she made Carol another sticker for her water bottle - something she hadn’t done in months - that said _you’re the best._

But Gen’s focus wasn’t on that. It remained on the wine cork. And that particular wine cork, “that’s from this bottle of wine Carol gave me - a white Burgundy from 1993.”

Gen’s mouth dropped along with the cork, which rolled to where Therese knelt and she picked it up and said, “excuse me,” before handing it back to Gen. 

“That must’ve been expensive.”

“Oh, it was. I looked it up.” Therese googled the bottle the day after Carol had given it to her, and then again months later to check that she hadn’t been hallucinating. 

Lowering her voice like there was anybody else there besides the two of them, Gen asked, “how much?”

“Not telling you. Find out for yourself.” She was holding the cork, after all. She could do a little research. 

Dannie arrived, sans Carol to Therese’s dismay. She asked if Harge was holding her hostage - he’d been doing that a lot, though mostly because he was becoming increasingly distraught with Carol’s impending departure - or if Carol was holding herself hostage, as she often did. Technically her last day of work had been the week before, but she kept feeling the need to help out. Therese found herself reminding Carol that she wasn’t indebted to them for any reason, but because of all the outpouring of jobs offers Carol had received as soon as she started looking (unlike Therese, she had options, _a lot_ of them), she felt she owed something to Chef and Harge and the restaurant in general. 

Ultimately, Carol had accepted a general management position at a wine bar where her friend Gigi knew the owner. The owner had initially stressed that she wanted Carol, badly, but might not be able to meet what she’d been paid at Ma Moitié. In an effort to tilt the scale for Carol, she added that, though the cost of living in Portland wasn’t cheap, it was significantly more affordable than New York City. Plus, they weren’t open Sundays - a guaranteed day off. Carol didn’t mention that her offered salary was, in fact, slightly _more_ than she’d been earning before when she’d squeezed out an extra handful of vacation days.

Dannie was haphazardly wrapping various kitchen appliances and sealing boxes with masking tape. Not wanting to be ungrateful, Therese resigned to possibly having to repack later. “She left when I did but was going to visit your guys' friend Jessica before coming home.”

Before she could become a little bit annoyed, Therese stopped herself, remembering that Carol had spent the previous three days packing on her own while Therese was at her studio for hours on end. She’d been finishing a painting - the last of the Carols - and deciding what to take and what to leave in storage until she could get it another time. Dannie, and later Ruby, had been the biggest help when it came to that, vowing to keep a close eye on Therese’s paintings should they sit dormant for several months. Carol had suggested not planning on moving the rest of Therese’s art until after her residency finished - just in case she decided she hated Oregon or Portland or both - and maybe it was her excitement clouding her judgement, but Therese didn’t see that being a possibility. 

All that was really left were some wine glasses (Therese told Gen and Dannie not to bother), some of their clothes, and the bed, which still needed to be taken apart. Carol’s many plants had found a new home in Abby’s new home. With no way to get them across the country on a plane or in a moving truck, Abby’s house was the best option, with space that was double the size of her told condo in Park Slope that she was struggling to fill. When Carol watched Alexandra and Abby load them into their car, she muttered, “they’re going to be dead within weeks.”

They’d get new ones in Portland. 

——-

Goodbyes hurt, but Jessica’s version was a bit much. 

Carol winced and whined and Jessica didn’t let up, working away. “Babe, you picked the spot. You’re bony. I don’t know what to tell you.”

In too much pain to argue - and knowing Jessica was right - Carol shut her eyes tight and grumbled. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been through this before, but in the three years since getting a tattoo on her rib cage, she’d forgotten just how uncomfortable it was. 

“Don’t squeeze your eyes like that, you’ll give yourself crow's feet.”

Right again, Carol heeded Jessica’s advice and tried to relax. She’d done the same thing months ago when getting the wildflowers on her arm, but that was a breeze in comparison. As a going away present, Jessica had asked if Carol wanted another tattoo. She didn’t have much in mind, but then spotted the succulent stickers on her water bottle that Therese had made her and said, “that.” Jessica took some liberties, of course - it was her art, too, after all. But Carol trusted whatever she did would turn out beautifully. 

She wasn’t disappointed.

After less than two hours, Carol stood in front of a mirror and inspected the work. “This is fantastic, thank you Jess.”

“If you want a little color, I can fill it in when I’m in Portland in November.” She was bandaging Carol’s side gently, running her fingers softly along her back to press the cling film into her skin. “You have a real gnarly hickey on the side of your boob, by the way.”

 _Fucking Therese._ “Seriously?” Carol tried to look but she stretched her skin without considering the consequences and hissed when it burned. At least Jessica thought it was funny. She’d kill Therese when she got home. Or something like that. Reprimand her in other ways, perhaps.

——-

“Did you get another tattoo? Just now?”

Therese could see the wrapping underneath the tank top Carol was wearing. She could also see her bright red bra underneath, which was more than pleasant. Interest suddenly piqued, Gen and Dannie sprang up and to Carol’s side, tugging at her shirt.

“Jesus. Okay, I guess this is fine guys.” Carol rolled her eyes and shook her head, taking a step back to show them herself. They oohed and aahed and Therese couldn’t really see anything from her spot on the floor, but imagined whatever Carol had gotten done was pretty. 

“Didn’t Therese draw this? It looks like something she’d do.”

“She _did_ draw this, yes.”

"I did?" And now Therese had to look, because though she’d secretly wanted to have something of hers on Carol’s body (the whole idea seemed stupid, yes, but also romantic, in the cheesiest way that ensured Therese would absolutely _never_ share it with anyone, Carol included), she hadn’t imagined that was in the cards. But there it was - one of her drawings of Carol’s succulents for the stickers she’d made her almost a year before. The particular plant was called a “string of pearls,” a name Therese remembered because she thought it fitting for something of Carol’s. 

Without being rude, Therese booted her friends out the door. She was forever indebted to them for all of their packing help, that was something she knew they would never let her forget, but she promised to buy them drinks the next night as payment. Being alone with Carol was priority now, though. For days, Therese had felt like they were ships in the night - never home at the same time until late, and leaving quickly in the mornings. With the others gone, Therese could be cute without scrutinization. 

She ghosted her fingertips along Carol’s ribcage, gazing down. “You didn’t tell me you were getting this.”

Carol’s face was flushing slightly and Therese smiled wider. “Yes, well… it was sort of a last minute decision. Surprise.”

“Good surprise. Hi, by the way.”

 _“Hi,”_ Carol’s greeting was long and drawn out and came accompanied with several kisses and a compliment to Therese’s hair - which Therese first assumed was a joke, because she was disgusting from packing all day and looked like a mess. But no, Carol liked the messy bun and the blue headband that was struggling to hold the loose strands in place. The state of their apartment was stressing Carol out, though, and she proposed they continue packing for another couple hours and then go and get dinner, because staying inside the place for longer than necessary was not an option. 

“If we go out anywhere, I can wrap, like, two more plates in paper and then I need to cleanse myself _immediately.”_ Therese motioned to herself, clearly in no state to be seen by the outside world. “This - the monster formerly known as your girlfriend - is going to take time.”

“What are you talking about? You’re beautiful. I think you look nice all sweaty like that. One might say I _prefer_ it.”

There was time to do both, though, to pack and allow Therese to shower and put on makeup. In an effort to conserve some, Carol didn’t ask Therese where she wanted to go and simply decided - they’d go to the place where Carol had made the other reservation on their first date, because they’d never actually been and Carol wanted to take Therese before they left New York. Therese listened while Carol called and made a reservation. It was Thursday, and a long shot, but when prompted with “ _what time?_ ” Carol’s nose scrunched and she said, “eight?” followed by, “9:15 is fine too.”

Therese laid out on the floor, abandoning her unfilled cardboard box in favor of letting Carol run her fingers back and forth over her arm while still on the phone. 

“Last name is Aird. A - I - ” She stopped, then sighed. “Yes, Carol. Sure, I can hold.”

Knowing what was about to happen, Therese added, “I’ll miss this.”

Carol said she wouldn’t, but Therese begged to differ. She would eventually. 

The holding ended and Therese could hear the reservationist faintly on the other end, apologizing, calling Carol _Ms. Aird_ \- at which Carol made a gagging face to Therese - and telling her that she could get them in at eight after all, _for her._ For someone who claimed she hated the special treatment, Carol was quick to accept it when offered. 

They were supposed to be packing, but Therese didn’t move when Carol hung up and Carol laid back and joined her on the floor. Even if going over their plans for the next four days was exhausting, it beat the effort of physical exertion so discuss was what they did. Carol had to spend the next day and night with Abby - just Abby, no Tessie, no Jessica, no Alexandra, _maybe_ a guest appearance from Rindy, but not for too long - and Therese had to do the same with Dannie, the next days were more goodbyes, more seeing people, and then finally the movers and the moving. 

“I just want to be gone. I’m sick of the endless going-away party.”

Carol turned to face Therese. “Same.”

Therese reached under Carol’s shirt in an effort to unclasp her bra. Her motivations were purely with Carol’s comfort in mind - it couldn’t have been enjoyable having the fabric rub against cellophane covering the fresh tattoo. 

Examining it further, Therese said, “I still can’t believe you got this. But I love that you did. What’s next, my name? A portrait of me?” 

She was kidding, obviously, and Carol laughed. “Absolutely not. I’ll only get your name when you marry me.”

If Carol didn’t make jokes like that _all the time,_ Therese might not have rolled her eyes far enough to see her skull. For months it had been Carol’s answer to everything - they couldn’t get a dog until Therese agreed to marry her, nor would Carol switch her cell phone plan to Therese’s _until they got married_ (which seemed a bit like cutting off her nose to spite her face), she’d even tried to stop Therese from borrowing one of her jackets using that rule, though it backfired when Therese pointed out that Carol was wearing her shirt. Therese would, of course, in a heartbeat - they’d been together for nearly a year - but Carol was always joking. 

“See, how am I going to know when you ask me for real? You're like the boy who cried wolf.”

Shrugging, Carol replied, “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll just have to guess. Use your intuition.”

Therese’s intuition said Carol loved jewelry, rings specifically. They’d been over that before long ago. “I’m sure you’ll have an extravagant ring ready to put on your _own_ finger when the time comes.”

Jumping up to get ready, Carol said, “something like that,” and Therese watched as she walked down the hallway to the bathroom and only followed when she heard the shower start to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading this story.


End file.
